Shattered into a Thousand Pieces (Stony) (Civil War)
by Skyrezo
Summary: Takes place after the Avengers and Civil War. Tony Stark aka Iron Man is a completely broken man. He lives a lonely hermit life and is an absolute mess. He thinks it's better to just end it all, and he tries, but is stopped by Steve Rogers who has finally decided to fix him. STONY! Captain America/Iron Man - Tony Stark/Steve Rogers. Contains mentions of suicide and or depression.
1. Chapter one: Breakable

_Warning: Contains depressive thoughts, mentions of suicide and stuff that's bloody. So yeah, don't read if you're sensitive to_ these _kinds_ of _things. Also, this story takes place AFTER the movie Civil war._

 ** _DON'T FRICKING READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE YET I SWEAR TO GOD IT CONTAINS FUCKING SPOILERS. I've warned you._**

 **Shattered into a Thousand Pieces**

His body was aching, his insides were burning, but worst of all; his heart was broken. Literally.

Tony lied there on the concrete ground, fortunately protected by his armor, taking hit after hit from the one and only Captain America, who repeatedly slammed his shield at Tony's already hurting head. He tried to kick the supersoldier off of him, tried to shoot with his repulsors to blow him off of him, but all of it was to no avail. Steve was enraged, Tony had hurt Bucky. Tony had tried to kill Bucky.

Bucky had killed his parents.

The stinging betrayal he had felt when he had watched the video was overwhelming him, his mind, he could no longer think straight and the only thing that repeated itself in his mind was a voice telling him to take revenge on the person who had brutally murdered Howard and Maria Stark. Boy, he had thrown punch after punch, he had shot small rockets, he had tried to make Bucky fall to his death - hell, he wanted to drill him right into the ground, but none of it killed him, he was unable to kill the Winter Soldier, only because this particular person named Steve had protected his friend, his companion, something Tony used to be, but wasn't, not anymore.

In fact, they had become enemies right then and there. They were fighting, punching each other's brains out, and for what?

 _He had lost a friend that day._

Steve raised his shield up in the air, preparing himself mentally for the final hit. Tony's vision had gone black various times, but he tried to keep himself awake. He knew he was losing the fight; his suit was going to shut down any second, and he would get a shiny shield shoved up his face in just a couple more seconds.

But it wasn't shoved up his face.

The shield penetrated the protecting arc reactor in the middle of his chest, at least, it hit the bulletproof glass that was in front of the arc reactor, but even though it was bulletproof glass, it went right through it and ended up hitting the real arc reactor, and then, there was complete silence.

Steve stared at the relieved man who had once been his friend, shook his head and made his way over to one-armed Bucky, who laid spread out on the ground. He wrapped one strong arm around his waist, and wrapped Bucky's good arm around his neck for support. Bucky whimpered out in pain, but manned up and moved until he was finally standing on his feet.

"Let's go"

"Steve... Wait." said his friend, he wanted to point at the complete wreckage of Iron lying there, but he couldn't, so he just nodded at him.

Steve turned his head, only to see that Tony had taken off his mask and that he was still lying on the ground, but something was severely wrong. Steve couldn't see those brown eyes filled with energy and determination anymore. No, instead of seeing those, he noticed that Tony's eyes were bloodshot, almost bulging out of his head, he was gasping for air as if his life depended on it, his face had gone extremely pale and sweat was dripping from his forehead onto the ground.

"T-...Tony?"

Bucky and he shared gazes, both contemplating whether they should go and help out the man who had just fought with them. Steve knew that Tony could die when the arc reactor was increasingly damaged, and he knew, this could be one of those times, but helping him was according to Steve, out of question. At least, that was what his mind was telling him. His gut nevertheless, was telling him Tony was dying, and he needed his friend, he needed Steve.

"Steve. Take him to the hospital. I can wait, I'm not that wounded..." spoke Bucky, trying to pry himself from Steve's strong grip on him.

"But Buck, he -"

"Hel...help." a quiet voice sounded. Steve froze and stared at the shivering and shaking body of Tony Stark, astonished the man had actually called out for help, which meant he really was in trouble. Tony never, absolutely never asked anyone for any kind of help. He dropped Bucky to the ground and ran over to the piece of mess he had just beaten up. He crouched beside him and observed him carefully but quick enough to realize Tony was in fact, suffering from a heart attack, a heart attack he had caused. The once full on shining light in the middle of his chest was now flickering, battling against Mr. Death.

Steve knew he had to operate CPR on him, but he had to take off the suit first and unfortunately, he didn't know how to take off the damned suit, or did he? Wait, he remembered Tony had once told him he had installed special mechanical releases that could get the armor off in a blink.

"Tony, tony hey, look at me buddy." Steve said, his voice shaking desperately. He carefully put his hands underneath Tony's head to lift it up a little so he was looking at him.

"Tony, you're gonna be okay. I promise. You'll be alright." He said as he was opening up all the mechanical locks with his other hand. Steve didn't know if Iron Man was going to be okay, he just said those words because he was rather encouraging himself, hoping he'd be able to save Stark in time.  
He didn't know much about heart attacks and stuff like that, but he did know that he had to act quickly if he wanted to save his friend. He had to act faster than he had ever run before, smoother than he had ever fought before. Funny how such small movements such as opening locks by pushing buttons can depend on whether someone will live or not.

Finally, the last lock snapped loose and the heavy chest plate could finally be removed. Steve threw off the entire thing easily, revealing the body of the poor guy. The shaking seemed to be much worse now his chest had been revealed. Steve immediately planted his head down to Stark's chest. It was difficult to hear something because of the soft humming of the arc reactor, but he soon detected a heartbeat. It was weak, but it was there. Steve started working on the CPR and began giving him chest compressions, praying for the younger man's life.

After several attempts of getting Tony's heart to beat again, after some minutes of hard work and effort, things finally started to look up when Tony coughed, and stopped shivering and shaking. Steve held his ear against his chest, and realized to his relief, that his heart was beating normally again, which made Steve's heart skip a beat, not harmfully though.  
The blonde stared at the panting Stark, who carefully tried to mangle himself out of the suit and the uncomfortable position he was laying in. Once he was out of the suit, with the help of Steve, he let out a deep, long sigh of relief. He was still distorted and couldn't tell what the time was, where they were and what had happened, but he knew he was safe right now.

The supersoldier sat down and looked at the exhausted man lying on the ground. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the brunette's body, shoved him closer to him and held him close to his chest. The younger man coughed weakly, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep while listening to the peaceful heartbeat of the blonde. Steve looked at Bucky, who was sitting on the ground just a short distance away from them, he smiled and nodded approvingly.

They had fought against each other here just a moment ago, and now they were sitting here, one holding the other in his arms.

But that wouldn't last for long.

* * *

 _Three months later_. Tony wandered around in his cold, empty lab, pathetically kicking pieces of mechanics that were lying around here and there. He wasn't interested in constructing and inventing things anymore. His mind was too messed up to do anything right now.

He'd continuously ask himself if it had all been worth it. Had it been worth it to create Ultron to bring peace to this godforsaken world? Instead of bettering it, he had almost destroyed it completely, what a bummer. Now speak of the decision he made of signing the contract to help the government, what all seemed to be worthless in the end. He clenched his rough hands to fists.

Everyone had left him anyway.

See, signing up to act under supervision of the government seemed like a good idea at first. Seemed. Until he had realized everyone was turning against him, and in the end, everyone despised him. Despite his desperate attempts to try and make the world a better place - nothing had worked out whatsoever. The better version of himself he had developed had been utterly destroyed, completely forgotten, as if all his good actions hadn't mattered anything at all. Mentally unstable Tony Stark had appeared again. This time stronger than ever.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckedy, fuck, you fucking piece of shit!" he punched the wall repeatedly, his hardened knuckles slowly turning blue, pink and all the colours they weren't supposed to be. The shit started to hurt like crazy, but he didn't care, why would he care about himself when there was no one who cared about him? He could better just end it all, end it and be over with it since he had no purpose in this world, no purpose to live for, neither to die for.

"You can't do anything right, you dumb - piece of - garbage..." The wall was cracking now, just like he was. Tears stung in his eyes, only causing the production of more tears, goddammit. He froze for a moment, quickly inhaling heavy breaths as if he couldn't gather enough oxygen with each breath he took.

Stark Tower was completely empty; there was no delicate soul to be seen and to be heard. The silence was terrifying him; the loneliness was consuming him alive. Steve had disappeared along with Bucky and the Black Panther. Assembled, they had freed the imprisoned Hawkeye, Wanda, Sam and the guy he still didn't know the name of. The looks they had given him when he went to visit them were horrific. Looks of betrayal, disgust, broken friendships laid still fresh in his memory, he'd remember those for eternity. Vision and Natasha had left; God knows where they had gone to. Rhodes was still crippled, resting regularly and not needing Tony's company all the time. He had even told him he desired to be alone for a while, to take it all in. Tony couldn't blame him, losing the ability to move properly and fight had been a big-ass change. Rhodes practically lived for the adrenaline rushes he'd get when fighting, helping Tony. And just like that, Tony had caused to take it all away from him. So indeed, he couldn't blame Rhodey for not wanting to see him anymore.

He was completely and utterly alone in his mind, body, soul, and most of all, entirely alone in the fucking world.

His head met the wall just as hard as his punches had hit it, and god - it hurt like hell. Hell. He was going there for sure, he thought. Tony Stark was a monster, a selfish, egotistical loser, he even believed it himself. Hell would be his home.

But as if anyone would mind him going to Hell. No one cared. No one would ever care. As if he wouldn't know. His father had never cared about him; the women he had made love with had only ever cared about his fame and money, and the Avengers only needed him because of his genius mind. They wouldn't need him anymore, the Avengers were gone, driven apart, and he was the one to blame.

"There, you've done it Stark. You're a disaster. A complete fucking disaster. You ... "tears trickled down his face and landed in a somewhat small puddle on the ground. He had already given up in trying to stop, no one was able to see him anyway.

 _You don't deserve this name._

His father's blunt words echoed through his confused mind, piercing at his already poor heart. His head hit the wall once again, this time even harder than before.

 _You're a disgrace to this family Tony._

All the memories were flooding back into his mind and no matter what he tried, he couldn't stop them. Unknown voices were dartling above his head. _Failure._ **Bang.** _Traitor._ **Bang.** _Fake._ **Crack.** Sticky liquid ran down his forehead, forcing its way down to his already bloodshot eyes. Dizziness fell over him, his with dots filled vision was getting blurry.

His father had been right. They had all been right about him. He was a disgrace. Egocentric. Plain stupid.

He deserved to be alone, _forever._ He thought, before the dazing world surrounding him faded to blackness

* * *

 _Five months had passed_. He clicked his mouse twice, opening the video he had downloaded from YouTube with a YouTube to MP4 converter. He sipped on his half full glass of scotch and leaned back in his chair.

"Miss Potts! Do you have any idea where Tony Stark might be?"

"He's probably spending some party time with his hot housemaids on Ibiza; I shouldn't worry too much about him." Pepper smiled. She looked beautiful in her long, sparkling blue dress she wore to the movie premiere that day. He should have been walking beside her, but he wasn't invited to the event.

"What happened between you and Stark?" the journalist asked, shoving the microphone up her face.

"We broke up. Things happen, but I've moved on, like he did. Only in a whole different kind of way." she had said it so simply, without even thinking about her answer. Had they really broken up? He thought they were just taking a break from everything.

 _Those had all been lies, you idiot._

He jumped when he felt two arms slowly wrapping their way around his neck, making him almost drop the glass on the carpet. Luckily, he didn't, that would be a waste of the beautiful carpet. He quickly restrained himself and tilted his head slightly, only to get lost into a pair of sparkling blue eyes.

"You drinking again?"

"Helps me relax, especially after you're scaring me like this." he said, bringing the glass closer to his mouth to take another sip, but he was interrupted by Steve snagging the glass away from him. Tony rose from his chair, trying to fetch it back, but Steve, who was grinning mischievously held it high up in the air, taking advantage of the genius who was much smaller in height.

"God damn it Steve, you prankster." he jumped, but the taller man was still able to keep him away from the glass, without spilling any droplets of course. Oh he was so enjoying this.

"Don't be so childish, just give it back."

"Says the one who's jumping and pushing me like a little grasshopper"

"Fuck you." sneered the genius, angrily plopping back into his chair.

"Language Tony..."

He glared at him and faked a bright smile. "Fine Mom."

"Thanks. So what are you up to?" the blonde leaned in, peeking at the computer screen. The video was inconveniently paused on Pepper's satisfied face, right after she had spoken the words that had broken Tony's heart.

"Nothing." He replied bluntly, clicking away the video instinctively. Steve looked at him, his eyes filled with worry and concern. The blonde leaned against the desk standing in front of Tony, he crossed his arms and stared down at him, intimidating the genius, not many people were able to do such a thing.

"You're not okay."

"What makes you think so? Seriously, I'm fine Steve. Go and punch some bags or something."

"You're mentally breaking apart Tony. Talk to me."

"As if you care."

"I do actually."

He shrugged. "You'd be the first one to ever care about an egotistical playboy like me. Just, no, leave. You'll never fix me."

"I could try."

"You don't have to..."

"I want to."

Tony looked up at him, hurt in his eyes.

"You can't. You're just a hallucination Steve. I created you."

"Tony wait –"

"I have to stop this. I can't keep on creating fake realities just to make me feel better, I can't. Honestly, nothing can fix me Steve, not even a machine can, not you, no one can. I keep on telling myself I'm a broken machine, what do you do with broken machines? You throw them away. I'm sorry." He said, looking down at the carpet on the ground. He heard Steve sigh, probably pitying with him, and he heard him pulling away from the desk. Even fake reality Steve was going to leave him, he just knew it. He pulled out the remote out of his pocket and clicked on a button, and his surroundings slowly started fade away, disappear. Tony stood up from his chair, throwing the remote against the wall in frustration. It broke in approximately six big pieces, never to be ever repaired again.

"You can't keep this act up Tony, eventually, you'll break completely." Steve said, looking at the genius who was breathing heavily, his chest quickly moving up and down. "You can't fix yourself Tony. Stop trying, please let someone in." He whispered, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. Tony hesitated at first, but eventually leaned in against the muscular body of the supersoldier, resting his head against Steve's chest. It felt as if when he was in his arms all Tony's pain went away - mental and physical, mostly the depressing pain. If he could only stay in his arms forever, safe from the world's harmful people. One could only hope.

"I want to help you. Just... give me a chance." Steve looked down at his legs; they were slowly starting to disappear into tiny pixels, then into small explosions in the sky. Soon enough, fake reality Steve would have never existed, and Tony would be all alone by himself again. "Please don't destroy yourself..." his voice cracked, Tony felt the strong arms around him disappearing, the warmth faded away. He closed his eyes, and let it all sink in. When he opened them again, everything had gone back to normal.

He was standing in the middle of the lab, his bare feet touching the cold floor making him shiver, the darkness surrounding him frightened him, the awkward smell of metal and dust made his nose and eyes upset, but the worst of all was the feeling of being completely alone again.

He fell to his knees, and stared at the ground intensively. The only way of ever getting to see Steve, or to ever act up as the Avengers again had been destroyed, and he was going to miss it amazingly, even though it had been just a figment of his mind, or rather said, a reality made by a machine. A machine he had ruined.

Did he regret destroying the machine? Maybe a little, but he deserved to be alone, so why did he deserve to live in a fake reality where everything was unicorns and rainbows? Exactly, _he didn't deserve such happiness, such joy. He deserved to be alone._

* * *

He was walking through the city, staring at decomposing bodies and collapsed buildings all over the place. On instinct, he'd enter a big building, marked as Stark Tower, taking the half destroyed stairs to the second floor to find his friends. He immediately noticed the in blue and red dressed figure lying on the ground, and ran over to him, crouched beside him and observed. Cap's legs were flattened by a big piece of metal, he was unable to move, and dying.

 _He was dying._

Steve's eyes shot open, he grabbed Tony by his shirt, almost dragging him down. The soldier's eyes were red from the blood that was running down his forehead. His normally blond locks were stained black and brown from all the dust and dirt lying around.

"You killed us... all..." he spoke, his lips trembling even more than his body already did. Tony couldn't do anything more than staring into his eyes, guilt boiling up inside of him.

"This is on you Stark..." His grip on Tony's shirt weakened, his eyes slowly shut.

"It's your fault." he whispered before he let go of the genius's shirt, his arm falling down beside him. Panicked, he tried to save him by doing chest compressions, but nothing helped anymore. Captain America's pulse was gone, he had died. Tony stood up slowly, wiping some tears away, and looking around furthermore to see the rest of his teammates lying all around the rampage. Clint's body had been pierced with a big piece of metal, his body was hanging onto it, his eyes wide open as blood was still flowing out of the ginormous wound. He looked like a chicken pierced onto a pole, but only this time the chicken had been alive. It made Tony gag, almost puke out his dinner from last night. He shifted his gaze to yet another body, this time Bruce's, half naked, he laid there lifeless, his body covered with several holes, shot wounds. It hurt him to see his science buddy there on the ground. Natasha was sitting, her back leaning against the big pole of metal Clint's body hung on. Her throat was slit brutally; the expression on her face was horrifying. Next to her was Thor, his head completely bludgeoned with his own hammer that was resting on top of his chest.

He stood there, surrounded by catastrophe and bodies of what had he had once considered as friends, all now completely defeated and utterly destroyed.

 _And it was his fault._

 _His fault._

His eyes shot open, he woke up with a violent shake, and screamed. His chest was inaccurately rising and descending. The sheets were twisted around his shaking limbs, probably because had been thrashing in his sleep. His heart pounded against his enlightened chest and he trembled. Partly coming back to reality again, he noticed how cold sweat poured down his face, making him shiver. The room was entirely dark. No light anywhere. The remnants of the terrible nightmare still clung to his mind, the guilt haunting him.

He had been experiencing the same nightmare over and over again, for seven months straight.

 _Seven months had passed_ _ **,**_ and no one had come to look for him, to even pay him a short visit. No one cared about him. It had come to the point where he just stayed in bed all day, only to grab a drink in the middle of the night. Guilt was slowly eating its way around his body, intending to completely ruin him, if he wasn't ruined already.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room in blinding light. Tony let out a frightened cry and buried his face into deeply into his soft pillow. Even his breaths trembled. He swallowed and once again turned to see the endless darkness of the room, completely empty without any signs of the catastrophe he had just wandered through, but he didn't know. The guilt, the bodies, the words Steve had said, the smell of blood, everything felt so real to him, unfortunately. **_Was he going crazy?_**

* * *

The mirror had that platina of age over the bronze frame; likewise the surface of the glass was splotched red and black in places. The mirror hadn't been cleaned, neither been touched for absolute ages _, nine months_ to be exact. No one had looked into the mirror except for the broken hearted man who was staring at his own reflection. The mirror showed him the man the world saw, all they saw, and somehow it didn't seem right. Inside he was fireworks, frustrations, sadness, and fear, boiling and gradually overcooking. All they saw was a pair of brown eyes and brown fuzzy hair, an overpriced suit and sunglasses, a stereotypical image you'd forget minutes after witnessing.

Tony stood there in the midst of the night, red sunken eyes staring back at him; bags under his eyes that are a darker shade of purple were the only elements that brought colour to his pale, dull face. His hair that had always been perfectly styled and decently put together with gel was now sticking and pointing out to almost everywhere, some bangs covering his eyes and sometimes tickling his nose.

The bathroom was overwhelmed with darkness; only the soft dimming glow of the arc reactor illuminated the place a little, serving as a light to look at him in the godforsaken mirror. He knew it was him in the mirror, yet he felt like he was staring back at a complete stranger. The face didn't seem like his, the body seemed like it belonged to somebody else, yet the stranger was him, he just didn't feel like it was him. Wondering how one could feel so emotionless, but still so pathetic, Tony looked down at his hands, clenching them to fists. A single tear dropped down onto them, but he couldn't feel it, not anymore. He had lost all sense of reality and had lost his personality. _Who was he?_

Pieces of glass flew everywhere, covering the ground and sink completely. Tony cradled his bleeding hand, becoming aware of the warm liquid dribbling its way down his arm and dropping onto the floor. His loose, grey jogging pants started to get blotched with crimson red, not to speak about his naked upper body getting pierced with some small glass shards, but he decided to ignore the stinging pain. _Cleaning all this mess up is gonna be a pain in the ass_ , he thought, looking down at the fragments of glass littering the ground. He then stared back at the mirror, slightly satisfied with the distorted image of himself. At least the stranger wasn't freakishly staring back at him now, he thought.

* * *

Tony sat still on his chair, with no strength to move. His shaky fingers had finally come to stop after running restlessly through his fuzzy, messed up hair. The window had been his only connection to the outside world. The phone doesn't ring. The rest of the day he stared through the rectangle of glass to the folks that walk by, the delivery trucks and the traffic that stands still much of the time. Once in a while he would see a nosy journalist passing by, examining the house carefully to see if Tony Stark was still alive, but no one sought for him furthermore.

The outside world was so close yet so far away, it felt like he couldn't touch anything, yet he could. After countless nights and days spent behind the glass, he had finally decided to go out, to maybe end it all. He fetched what he needed; a sweater, a bottle of scotch, a phone and a gun. He then went outside, following where his heart was bringing him to.

* * *

Steve Rogers swung his shield at the man-like cat standing in front of him, who quickly jumped up, clawing his nails into a thick branch hanging right above him. _Lucky,_ the soldier thought, looking up at the circus cat pulling stunts and preparing himself to jump on top of him.

They were in a big chamber that was built so it could be transformed into a big forest, the perfect place to improve a hero's reflexes, strength and senses. It was perfect for Black Panther, who would casually jump from tree to tree, sneak up behind his victim or hide behind tree stumps or inside a pile of leaves. Nevertheless, it was horrible for Steve since the trees made it difficult to throw his shield anywhere. Of course, he could throw it at a tree, only to slice it in half, but planting new trees or even removing the remains was a big task, one he had to take care of. So he tried to throw his shield as less as possible, which was very difficult for the man.

The in black dressed cat jumped right on his shoulders, but Steve was quicker and grabbed him by his leg, throwing him against a nearby tree. The guy groaned as his body hit the wood, but he was quickly on his feet – or paws again.

The underground base laid in New York and had been built and used by Howard Stark and his employees. It was specially created for soldiers such as Steve, who needed their own training space. Now Steve couldn't use the training halls in Stark Tower anymore, he had decided to fresh up his memory and to go back to this place, where he had gone through his first training as a supersoldier, as Captain America.

He threw a sudden punch at his opponent, but he blocked it. They stared into each other's eyes for a short moment of time, ready to continue their battle, but they were interrupted by a soft ringing sound coming from the chamber next-door.

"Is that the _national anthem_?"

"That's my phone, I'll be right back." Steve said, putting his shield on his back and making a run towards his phone that was lying on the couch in the canteen. He picked it up and read the caller ID.

 ** _Unknown._**

* * *

The fading of the sunlight had also meant the fading of the heat. Wintry air swirled around Tony taking every lick of warmth it could. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, pulling his coat closed and tucking his chin downward into his pullover. His breath was now only visible under the streetlights, the few which still lit up the resting city.

Looking up at the moon that was illuminating the nightly path before him, he quickened his pace, heading towards the beach. As he arrived, he took off his shoes to prepare for the long walk he was about to take. He continued his journey, marching through the softness of the sand, his feet sometimes getting bothered with sharp shells picking at his toes, but he didn't quite feel it anyway. The smell of the salty sea rushed through his nose as he breathed in fresh air, but it still felt as if he was continuously choking, gasping for oxygen with every breath he took. A cold rushing breeze of wind blew in his face, he squeezed his eyes even more shut, holding the bottle of scotch closer to his chest as he carried on.

He looked over his shoulder to see the houses and lights staying behind him in the distance. His feet were burning, his body was shivering, but he could feel absolutely none of it. He dragged himself over the cool black sand to the inky water, letting it kiss his toes as he stared forward at the empty, in blackness drowned horizon. There was no soul to be seen, he was completely alone, as he had always been. Perfect, he thought. He dug a rather small undeep hole with his right hand next to him to put the bottle in there; he'd open it later, when he was ready.

The thought of leaving this planet didn't scare him, he wasn't even sure if he'd really leave anyway. What if he was stuck in one of these fake realities he had created with that awful machine? This reality felt unreal, as if it was just a figment of his messed up mind. He was severely messed up; he deserved to be al- he deserved to die. In his life, Tony had sometimes contemplated whether he had a purpose in this world or not. The weapon industry, the development of the Iron Man suit, what kind of purpose had he brought to this world? The weapon industry, the one his father had put so much effort in to be able to take care of his wife and child, had been shut down by his only son, and the money he had left had he used to create a murderous suit that everyone ended up fighting about.

Tony Stark was a man who didn't care about anyone but himself, he didn't care whose blood he had on his hands, as long as he profited from it. That was the man he was before he changed, and once he tried to better his life, better his attitude and try and make his failures right, nothing had changed. He was still the same person that ended up hurting everything and everyone around him in some kind of way, and people would leave him for that. He had always believed that the ones who fled were the ones who weren't worthy to be his friends, or family. Fate would decide who came and left his life, but fate had left him with no one.

He dug his bare feet into the sand. Grabbing a handful, he rubbed it vigorously between his hands, the tiny grains digging into his palms, scratching his skin. He watched how the casual foaming waves dribbled down onto the sand, making gurgling and gashing sounds. A breeze of wind played with his messy hair. He shivered a little and put on his hoodie over his head, feeling the warmth of the cloth against his icy ears.

The question everyone would ask when they were on the verge of destroying themselves was presumably if they were going to be missed. Tony had an answer to that question. He knew some people; some fans maybe, were going to miss him. They'd cry over his death for a while, they would grief, visit his grave once in a while, but after one year or two, people would forget him. He's not something to be dwelled on anyway. All Tony ever wanted was to make a difference in this fucked up world. He didn't want to follow in the footsteps of his father; he didn't want to make the mistakes he had made. Unfortunately, he had failed desperately.

He pulled out a small note he had left in his pocket, a suicide note, to all who wanted to know why he had done it. To say goodbye.

 _Hey y'all,_

 _Sorry you had to find my body like that, all messy and fucked up. Be sure to burn my body, kay? I don't want anyone committing necrophilia on me. Why, wondering why I killed myself? I know, I'm a coward but I couldn't live with that guilt anymore. Besides, no one needs me anyway, I serve no purpose to this world. So I'm better off somewhere else, Hell perhaps._

 _The house goes to my friend Rhodes, so does the money. Tell him to take good care of my buddy Jarvis, alright?_

 _I'll miss ya,_

 _Anthony Stark._

This message was awful, he thought, crumpling the note to a simple paper ball. He looked questioningly at it for a second before throwing it into the water, where it slowly submerged until it had fully disappeared underneath a blanket of waves. Why even write a note, he had no one to say goodbye to anyway.

Except for one person.

After the happenings with Bucky, Steve and Tony fighting, Tony had received a package from Steve, containing a telephone and a letter. He had read the letter, astonished because Steve had actually sent him something after the harsh words he had said to him.

 _If you ever need me, just give me a call._

Tony looked at the waves crashing into one another; he felt yet another breeze blowing from the tide, carelessly messing up his hair once again. Silence had been frightening to him while he was alone at home, but it seemed much more peaceful while sitting on the beach at night. It would be a waste to interrupt that silence with an abrupt gunshot, but it was necessary, or was it?

His hand fled into one of the pockets of his jogging pants, and his fingers wrapped around the old flip phone, clenching it anxiously. He didn't want to call Steve, because he'd promptly leave him again, wouldn't he? Besides, after all the harm he had done to Steve's friend, Bucky, he surely didn't want to see him again, like everyone. Especially after what Tony had done to make him disappear so abruptly by throwing the remote against the wall. Because that one was the real Steve right?

 **Right?**

He pulled out the stupid phone and looked through the contact number list; there was only one number in it. He clicked on the number and selected 'Call.' He waited for a moment, nervously listening to the several long beeps he heard. A thousand of questions where running through his mind. _Was Steve going to pick up? How was Tony going to tell him goodbye? What if Steve hated him?_ Tony sighed; this wasn't a good idea at all. He wanted to stop trying and hang up after a while, but then the beeping stopped.

"Hello?"

"Steve?" his voice faltered as he murmured into the phone.

"Tony?"

"Hi."

"Wow, it's been a while..." he said awkwardly, sitting down on the couch next to him. He was actually kind of happy Tony had finally called him. He had forgotten about him, at least, tried to forget about him in the past few months. It was hard, but he managed to carry on without the brunette by his side. Once in a while, he would miss how the genius used to annoyingly bother, including poking and him all the time.

"Yeah."

"What's going on? You magically disappeared. Even Clint can't find any news about you, except from the news that you've gone to an island with some girls."

"Oh. How's Featherface doing?"

"Good."

"Good..." Steve noticed the exhaustion in Tony's voice, there was a slight form of sadness as well.

 _Silence._

"Tony, are you really on an island partying with women?"

He heard an intake of a shaky breath followed by a slow whisper. "No."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean? You must know where you are right? If you don't want to share that information with me, that's okay, I guess."

"I really don't know. I – I tried Steve. I really tried, like you said, but I can't do it. I can't – nothing's changed... but everything's changed at the same time..." he sounded much more defeated this time.

"Tony, calm down, what are you talking about?"

"Remember when you told me not to destroy myself? I didn't listen, I have never listened to you. I'm so sorry Steve. I didn't want to hurt you, or anyone. I didn't intend to destroy the entire world, neither to kill people – gosh, I've killed so many. "

"Tony..." he had no idea what the guy was rambling on about. He couldn't remember telling Stark not to destroy himself, so why did he? It could've been a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. Gosh, Tony sounded so tired. Had he even slept in these past few months?

"I'm so sorry." He was practically sobbing now. "I don't deserve any kind of love, I'm so, so sorry for everything I've done."

"Where are you?"

"..." he could only hear heavy sobbing on the other side of the line. It broke Steve's heart.

"I'm coming to get you."

 _"I just want to end it all Steve."_

He froze, but he could still feel an unwanted chill prickling down his spine. Steve's eyes shot open. He definitely knew Stark had really meant everything he had just said, the guilt had finally taken a bite out of him, it had completely destroyed him. He had to take action right away; otherwise the police would find a dead Stark the next morning.

He ran over to the computer room where Natasha and Clint were drinking coffee together. Steve gestured Natasha to go to her computer, which she did as fast as she could since the soldier seemed quite panicked. He held the phone against his chest for a second, whispering her to trace the number to get Tony's location.

"No, you're not going to die like this. You're **a hero.** You're **Iron Man** , you can't die somewhere in the gutter. You deserve to die as a hero."

"I don't deserve anything. I've tried anything to better the fucking world, nothing's changed, nothing helped aside from everyone leaving me ... - that sounds so selfish. I'm sorry for being selfish Steve. I really am. I deserve to die, I know, **you** know."

"Tony, please _hold on._ " he half-yelped.

"Steve listen... I'm sorry, but this is my fate."

"Tony no –"

"Everything I do is worthless, besides, nobody wants me to stay..."

"Stop saying that. I need you! I want you to stay." he glanced over at Natasha, who had poked him in his arm. He bent over; looking at the address her finger was pointed at. He was at the beach? That was about ten minutes away from here. Steve nodded in approvingly and ran over to the stairs that led to a door that separated the underground base from the normal outside world. He tiptoed his way up, faster than ever, and kicked the door open.

"Are you still there? Please, hold on Tony. I'll be with you in a couple of minutes. Let's talk" he panted, running down the streets in the middle of the night, still wearing his battle gear.

"I'm sorry, but I've waited too long... Take care of Jarvis will ya? He needs company sometimes. I don't want him to get lonely or sad. He's just a machine, but he still has feelings y'know..." he chuckled bitterly.

"Jarvis can't live – function without you Tony. He needs you, just like I do. We all need you..."

 _"I noticed."_

 _Ouch._ Steve remained silent for a moment, taking in the hurtful words and the guilty realization.

"So," Tony inhaled slowly. "Here's my goodbye" he whispered, sobs shaking his entire body. "No one will ever fucking cry over me... "

"Tony, no... Don't do anything just yet. I care, please! "Steve yelled into the phone, not caring if he'd wake up anyone in the street he was running through. He looked up, noticing he was only one minute away from the place Tony was at. He quickened his pace, asking his legs to move faster than they could.

"Don't do this. I care about you. "he said again, emphasising the word care, because he really did care about the broken-hearted man. God, what would he do without the genius in his life?

"Please don't cry over me Steve. It's okay. I'm not worth any tears. " he stammered into the phone, hot tears streaming down his face.

 _Just around this corner... "_ Tony no, I'm almost there. Just hold on for -"

 **Bang.**

 _"Tony!"_

The line went dead silent. The only things Steve could hear were his now louder getting footsteps, and an echo of a gunshot ringing in the distance.

* * *

Steve ran through the sand, eyes focused on the figure sitting near the sea in the distance. He wondered if the figure was still breathing, or if the sand surrounding him would be coloured with red. His heart was pounding out of his chest as he came closer to the figure. He soon recognized the form of a man, a man wearing a hoodie. He was sitting with his knees clenched to his chest, chin resting on his knees. Shattered pieces of glass and the bottom of what once used to be a bottle were lying around him, and so did a small puddle of orange or maybe brown liquid. Steve sniffed in the air, detecting the smell of alcohol and salt. He slowed down when he was only a small distance away from the man, his friend, staring at his back for a moment.

 _You're still alive. Thank god_.

Steve slowly walked over to Tony, and sat down next to him. The smaller man didn't look his way but kept on staring at the now orange turning horizon. Observing his face, Steve noticed that Tony's eyes were small, but puffy and red, surrounded by bags that were black and purple. He was pale like a ghost, his lips were a soft colour of pink, but that was probably the only colour noticeable. Steve then looked down to the brunette's baggy clothes. The pullover that had once fit him perfectly was now loose and crumpled, and so were his jogging pants; he had lost a lot of weight.

He looked down at the gun Tony still held in his hand. Steve slowly moved his arm towards the weapon and grabbed it. He then stared at Tony for a brief moment, but the poor man still didn't show any signs of movement or reaction. The gun was slowly pulled away from Tony's rough, dirty hands. Steve saw the wounds on his swollen knuckles, he saw the enormous blue spot on his wrist, but he didn't say anything, not yet.

The yellow shining sun started rising from the ground. It filled the sky with mighty colours of red and splashed the clouds with endless rays of pink, repelling the darkness and moon.

"I used to watch the sunrise every morning." Steve began, sighing. "I realized as a young boy that the sunrise was tragically beautiful. It reminded me of how I had to enjoy the little things in life, but also how I had to carry on to keep getting to see them." He took of his blue hero helmet and laid it beside him in the sand, continuing his story.

"And... I don't know. Every time I look at the sun, I always think of my biggest accomplishments, but also of the time when I was just a little fragile boy who'd think he couldn't do anything."

 _Silence._

Tony peers Steve's way, face resolutely unimpressed. "It's funny how you're trying to make up an inspirational story but you're failing so hard."

He chuckled at the blunt response. "Well, I thought it was pretty inspiring."

"You're so _awkward_ Steve."

"You're so **_broken_** Tony."

"I know, my luck."

The air felt refrigerated, fortunately less cold than the ice Steve used to live in. Tony's pink lips tinged with blue and gently chattering teeth he wrapped his thin pullover around him tighter. The blonde noticed and silently shoved himself closer to the genius, until their arms were touching.

"You haven't shot yourself."

"I know." He was still overlooking the sea, offering no ongoing conversation of his own.

"You shot the bottle instead."

"I know."

"Why?"

The genius shrugged, inhaling a deep breath. He looked down at his feet. "I don't know."

"You don't want to die." he whispered. " _You just want to be saved."_

"I can handle myself, thanks." came his reply.

Steve felt frustrating boiling up inside of him. Tony was once again pretending to be okay when he clearly wasn't. He wondered why no one had taken the time to search for the real Tony behind those fancy glasses. Why had nobody tried to fix the man in the suit?

"Even a superhero needs saving sometimes. Even a man who wears a suit protecting him from all kinds of missiles or weapons, from all kinds of hits can get hurt. The suit..." he paused, thinking. "And neither superpowers can save you from a broken heart."

"I'm not a superhero."

"What are you then?"

" **A failure. A fraud**. Basically everything that starts with the letter F. A fucktard."

"What about fantastic?"

He swore he could see a small smile appearing his face. "I meant all the negative things pal." Tony said, emphasizing the word 'negative.'

"You're fabulous, fantastic, funny, fascinating. Don't drag yourself down like that." This caught Tony's attention; he turned his head towards him. Steve's heart skipped a beat as he stared in to his black emotionless eyes.

"I'm a monster Steve, we both know it." he murmurs, his wide eyes becoming glossy with tears. He looked away, his head turning towards the sea again. Steve looked away as well. An awkward silence took place as they both stared into the distance of the endless water.

The sea was tainted; it was no longer a pool of blackness, nor did it appear blue. Instead it looked a metallic, shining grey, glistening as the spears of sunlight pierced through the clouds and danced over the surface, creating all sorts of flickering Morse codes.  
Steve wanted to convince Tony of how amazing he actually was, how he had invented incredible things that had saved the world, but he just couldn't see it himself. He was so submerged in negative thoughts of guilt and despair that he just couldn't think of the good things he had done.

Maybe, _no one had ever told him that he was in fact a good person._

Steve looked over at his friend, eyes watering with worry and pity. He needed someone to tell him that the world needed him, that he was loved.

"Can I hug you?" the blonde asked spontaneously.

"What the hell?"

"Can I hug you?"

Tony shrugged, uninterested in the offer. "Whatever."

Steve leaned in closer and wrapped his strong arms around Tony's fragile body. The hug was awkward, but it somehow brought a sudden peace they both had never known before, it was a calming of the storms in Iron Man's heart and a new experience in Captain America's mind.

"We're not gonna kiss are we?" Tony asked after half a minute, awkwardly distancing his face from the supersoldier.

"Let's just start with a good night's sleep first, you look like a zombie." Steve said, pulling him back again, causing his hoodie to shove off his head, it revealed his messy hair. Steve chuckled.

"Lay down and shut your eyes and mouth Stark. Sleep for goodness sake."

"Why thanks for the compliment Steve. I appreciate it." Tony laid his head on his shoulder, glaring at the supersoldier.

"Sleep Tony. I'll wake you up when you look less dead."

"Fine." he murmured with a tiny sigh.

They both watched as the sun was peeking out of the horizon, its brilliant rays already shined brightly and began to warm the cold air. A soothing breeze of warm air caressed their faces, leaving them both to enjoy the beauty of Mother Nature.

"Steve?" He kept his face buried in Steve's shoulder, his dark brown tufty hair sticking out behind like he'd just woken up from a long nap. His fingers curled into the fabric of the Captain America suit, not clasping it tightly, but just enough to reassure the blonde he was feeling comfortable and most of all, safe.

"Yes?" he looked at him, only to see that he was half asleep already, his eyes opening at his reply.

 _"Thanks."_

Steve had wanted to ask him for what exactly, but he knew that there would come no respond, and he knew why Tony had thanked him anyway. There was no need to ask. He had saved him, actually saved him. It felt different than saving a civilian, it was heavier than saving an entire floating city; he felt like he had finally accomplished something big, something that had been bugging him and others for a long, long time. Tony had finally let someone in; he had finally expressed his emotions. Who knows for how long he had been wearing that awful mask of lies, laughs and sassiness. Who knows how many times Tony had tried to destroy himself, maybe even without noticing it.

Tony Stark was a broken man. A man whose heart was shattered into a thousand pieces, all was lost in the past and present, but Steve was there to glue him back together, to keep him alive. He'd even go back into the past to collect all the other shards of his broken heart that he had left behind. He'd travel to the future to prevent him from getting hurt, but now, all he could do was support him in the present. All he could do now was to try and keep him together, and although it might get difficult, he'd try.

Steve Rogers was one of the few people who'd really cared about Tony Stark, he was one of the few who'd fly a rocket to the moon and back to make him happy.

He wrapped a strong arm around his friend and smelled the scent of his messy hair. His gaze then shifted to the full on shining sun that was sending its rays down on them. He furrowed his brows and nodded slowly, determined _he was going to fix the heart of the iron man that was shattered into a thousand pieces._

* * *

 **Tada, my first ever written angsty Stony fanfiction. Let me know what you guys think of it down in the comments. To clear some things up, Tony was suffering from depression and derealisation/personalization in this one-shot, or tripleshot, idk. He had lost all sense of reality and could barely remember himself in the mirror. All of this scared him maniacally, so he started to punch the mirror, he tried to destroy the stranger, but he ended up destroying himself.**

 **Luckily, Steve was there to save him.**

 **Oh gosh, I need a person like Steve in my life. Trying to save yourself if pretty hard y'know? For the record, I'm also suffering from those complicated disorders. It's horrible.**

 **Buuuut, I'm carrying on, I'm putting all my time and effort in writing, reading and drawing now. Even though it's hard, I'll make it. I hope.**

 **I just want a person like Steve in my life, someone who actually cares.**

 **I guess that's difficult.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading. You really love reading books or you must really love Stony if you've made it this far. Congrats, you deserve a cookie. Speaking of, if you've got an idea for a Stony one-shot, would you please message me? I'd love to hear and write it.**

 **;D**

 **So this story was;**

 **9025 words long,**

 **19 pages long in Word, (Calibri 11)**

 **And it took me about three days to write.**

 **Once again, thanks for reading!**

 **Toodles,**

 **Skye.**


	2. Chapter two: Vulnerable

_Warning: Contains depressive thoughts, mentions of suicide and stuff that's bloody. So yeah, don't read if you're sensitive to_ these _kinds_ of _things. Also, this story takes place AFTER the movie Civil war._

 ** _DON'T FRICKING READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE YET I SWEAR TO FRIDGES IT CONTAINS SPOILERS. I've warned you._**

 ** _I do not own the Avengers or Cap and Iron Man by the way - I wish I did though._**

* * *

Steve stared at a sailing boat that looked like a marble in the endless distance, focusing on it until it disappeared in the horizon. The beach was empty, except for some birds flying around and picking up all kinds of trash, as that would be their breakfast. If he had brought any bread with him, generous Steve would've definitely given them some crumbles, especially since devouring trash was dangerous for those birds, they could choke on a can or paper.

Steve rested his head on top of Tony's, snuggling in his fluffy hair. He wished he had visited Tony sooner enough to prevent him from destroying himself. The guy had been all alone since day one.

He travelled back to the early days when he was still experimenting with the shield that Howard had made for him. The proud, approving looks Howard had given him, every time when he walked in after returning from yet another mission had never left his mind. Howard had been like an uncle to him, he had, along with his good friend Bucky, informed him about the aspects and dangers of this world. Without them, he wouldn't have made it this big whatsoever.

 _So how had his only son, Tony Stark been able to make it by himself?_

Of course, young Tony had everything he could ask for; unlimited resources for experimenting and working, enough money to buy whatever he wanted to, and pretty much the intelligence to make up and fix anything he'd put some effort into - or sometimes without any effort. Steve on the other hand, had to _work_ for all this stuff, he had to work his way up as a small boy to become the soldier he was now. That was all because Howard Stark and his crew had given him an opportunity, a goal in life, something to work his ass off for, but had he given his own son the same opportunities and attention when he was still alive and well?

Tony's awful words still wandered through his mind. The way he had said he didn't deserve anything other than death, how he mentioned he was sorry for everything he had done in his life, and how he felt like all the bad things, all the deaths of civilians were _his fault_ \- it had broken Steve's heart completely, in just a moment of time. He'd never expected Tony to turn out to be so vulnerable, so mentally destroyed. Steve had considered Tony as an egocentric, arrogant man before he'd even met him; Tony used to be a lot like his father, but in a different kind of way. He had been such a womanizer like Howard, and still was, which was quite the disappointment in Steve's opinion. Or was it?

 _"What the hell Rogers, stop it."_ spoke his conscience.

He was weirded out, contemplating his gender preference early in the morning like that. Of course, he had kissed Sharon, but that hadn't brought up those sparks he'd expected from such an intimate moment. He wondered if kissing Tony would ignite those fireworks. But he quickly shook his head, and decided he would just change the topic in his head before he randomly started kissing the guy. Right, back to Stark - so Tony had said Howard had mentioned Captain America a lot of times, and he - when he talked, only spoke about Steve Rogers and his alias Captain America. He wondered if Tony hated him.

Of course he did, he had almost killed him for goodness sake. Mentally for sure, physically, almost, and there he sat, comforting him, even though he probably hated him. Steve wanted to slap himself for not knowing Tony had been trying to destroy himself in the past few months he hadn't been there.

Meanwhile, Tony opened his eyes and blinked, the stunning rays of sunlight blinded him for a moment, but he quickly came to his senses again.

"Morning." He heard Steve say, he looked up in surprise, Steve was still here. He was real? _Like actual real?_

 _"Hi?"_

"How do you feel?" Steve asked, he wondered if Tony still felt like killing himself today. He looked better at least, less pale and luckily less tired, but still not good enough to be left alone, not yet.

"As if there's sack of potatoes jumping on top of my head, kind of like that. Let's say evil, jumping potatoes drillin' right through my handsome skull."

Steve chuckled, that's the Tony Stark he knew. Witty and cheeky, even when he was hurt or having trouble. But was that the mask he wore to hide his emotions again?

"That's quite the comparison."

"What can I say, big imagination. Thinkin' big is my thing y'know?" He stretched his arms and legs, dug his feet into the sand and yawned. Steve observed him, his legs, his arms, and his bruised hands, from which he still didn't know how he got them so pink and blue, and even yellow at some places, interesting. He was almost certain though, that Stark had inflicted these fresh bruises and wounds on himself, because there was no one who could've done it otherwise. No one, except from some of his robots, had stood beside Tony, so no one could've possible hurt him that badly, unless he had done it to himself, or, there was also the possibility that Steve had… no, it's been so long, he couldn't be the cause of Tony's wounds, not anymore, at least.

"Tony, why didn't you call me sooner?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love calling you, but it seemed a little inappropriate after almost killin' eachother and stuff. It's kind of weird if I call you to just talk about the global warming or anything like that, don't ya think?"

Steve sighed. "You nearly _killed_ yourself."

"Oh right, about that. It was a one-time thing. Will never happen again, nada nope, never. Now, thanks for the muscled pillow, appr'ciate it, but I have things to do." Tony stood up and brushed some unwanted sand crumbs from his jogging pants and shirt.

It nerved Steve that the brunette could say this so casually, as if he had drunk too much, and apologized for being so wasted the next day, telling everyone it was a one-time thing he got that drunk, and that it would never happen again, like a teenager lying to his parents. This was suicide they were talking about for goodness sake, how could Tony be so blunt about this? He got up as well, and stood firm, chest rising from angered thoughts. "A one-time thing? Tony you almost _shot_ yourself!"

"Will you stop whining if I say I'm sorry?" Tony stared at him with those big, innocent chocolate brown eyes, eyes surrounded with redness and filled with hidden emotions. Only if Steve could get through the guy again. He had to keep an eye on him, it was the least thing he could do.

"No. I'm coming home with you. My stuff's still there right? I could keep you company."

"Could indeed, thanks, but I don't need company, from no one. You should go back to your secret little base where you're keepin' your so awesome friend Bucky. How's the kitty doin' by the way? 'Hope he hasn't ruined your curtains yet" he paused and glared at Steve. "Oh wait, I hope he has." Then, he ducked, grabbed his shoes, turned around and began an exhausting journey through the sand. Steve picked up his mask and followed him, and so they walked next to each other on their way home, Tony more in a rush than Steve was.

"I had to protect him, he's my friend." Steve said silently.

" _So was I_ , you selfless bastard."

The blonde sighed. "Please, I don't want to fight with you again. Neither fist fighting or arguing. You nearly died last time."

"I wish I did."

"Don't say that."

"I just did, and I'll do it again. _See if I care_ , Steve." He sneered.

Steve's fingers entangled their way around Tony's arm, gripping the fabric of his sweater and pulling him back to him. Tony's body jerked backward, but he still managed to stay on his feet. They both came to a halt and their eyes met; Tony's eyes turning even alertly darker at the sudden touch he really did not like at all. "I know you don't care, but I sure as hell do." Steve said, eyes focused on him.

Tony forcefully tried to peer Steve's hand from his grip on him, to no avail since the supersoldier was far more muscled than he was, even in his fingers. "You shouldn't." he snorted.

"You don't trust me, do you?"

"No means to make a reference to Frozen or anything, but you should really let go of me before you break my other arm too."

Steve looked down and noticed he was squeezing the life out of Tony's arm. He quickly retreated, stepped back and rubbed behind in his neck, digging his right foot into the sand in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I just want to-"

"Just stop blabbin' Steve."

"But -"

"Shush."

"Tony I -"

"Shut up, you can stay with me, for now, but only if you zip it 'til we're back at the tower."

They continued their walk in silence until they arrived at Stark Tower, that seemed less huge than a couple of months ago; the tower was completely dark, even the enormous Avengers sign had been shut off. Tony nervously pushed the buttons to the 6th floor after they had stepped into the elevator. Steve leaned back against the wall, scraping his throat. "Tony, listen."

But the genius didn't look at him at all. "I'm done list'ning."

"Could you please set your ego aside for once? Listen to me."

"Only if you make me coffee." He demanded. A smirk formed across his face as he observed how Steve sighed, rolling his blue eyes. Tony was sure the loyal soldier would make him a nice cup a coffee. He really needed that after such a long night of almost killing himself.

The doors opened and they both walked out. Steve slowed down for a moment. He felt like stranger walking through these halls again. "You c'ming, dreamboy?" Tony asked.

"Yeah."

Tony walked up front, rambling like he always did. "Hope you didn't f'rget the route. I sure do every time I walk here."

A small smile formed on Steve's lips. "It's good to be back." He said.

"It got too silent out here without your lovely snoring."

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Right."

"No kidding, sounded like a chainsaw, or worse."

"Good to know."

When they arrived in the messy kitchen, Steve immediately started working on his belonging wish for coffee. Tony watched him. It surprised him how Steve knew his way around with the high tech coffee machine he had just invented a couple of weeks ago. It was like a mini-coffee –Jarvis, but different. The coffee machine would cheekily speak back to the person using it, it had been the only person who really wanted to talk to him without mentioning the mistakes he had made. Gosh, his only friends were a coffee machine and a guy wearing tights he fought with just a couple of months ago. _What the hell._

But, without asking any questions, everything went smoothly, even without explosions and/or unnecessary frustrations. Proudly after having survived the cheeky remarks of Covis – Yes, that was the coffee machine's name -Steve handed him the bright red cup, but when Tony didn't grab it after a moment, he just put it down on the counter instead."You got your coffee. Now listen." Steve said, leaning against the counter with crossed arms.

"Fine, _mom._ " Tony said as he grabbed the mug from where Steve had put it. He licked his dry lips and took a sip from it.

The super soldier sighed. "Look, I know you think people only like you because of your fame and money, that they befriend you just to take advantage of you, and some them do, frankly, but some of them don't; Pepper, Rhodey, Clint, Bruce, Nat, Thor and… me as well. We all like you - _love you_ in fact, even despite your flaws… Err, we all have imperfections anyway." He said awkwardly, stuttering over his words and sentences all of the sudden.

A mocking chuckle rumbled over Tony's lips as he brought the cup down from his mouth. "I guess thanks for loving me, but tell me Cap. What are your flaws? You're perfect, can take a beat, you can save anyone. They don't even need me, only thing I do is fuck up. "

"My flaws?" he questioned himself out loud. Steve hated it how people would think he was perfect. Surely, there were presumably thousands of fangirls and grown women fantasizing about him, but he didn't feel perfect. He knew his own flaws; being too humble, considering everyone fighting as a soldier, not keeping particular promises - he was surely aware of the mistakes he had made. And forgetting about Tony Stark was one of them.

 _"I don't know how to save you, Tony."_ he confessed. He really didn't know how to get through the engineer's walls of lies and hidden emotions. Steve had observed him at the beach, he had looked so vulnerable, like a new-born deer, helpless and in need of motherly support. Tony had let him in for a slight moment, he had let Steve comfort him, they had watched the sunrise together, but the walls seemed to have risen again, the facade was back on. How was he supposed to help Tony if he kept on pushing him away?

"No one can."

 _"Together,_ we will."

"Together my ass." Tony took a huge sip from his damping coffee. He really didn't believe in this nationalistic idea of union and the 'together we will conquer anything' thought.

"Then _I will_."

Tony gave him a blank stare, not knowing whether he should be annoyed or relieved. Maybe, he was both at once, he didn't know. So instead of showing either of those emotions, he exclaimed another witty response. "Your ass?" He grinned.

"I'll save yours." Steve answered bluntly. He wanted to slap himself across the face. That came out more gay than he had intended to. Luckily, Stark didn't continue the ass-saving conversation but left him with an interesting question.

"When will you give up on me?"

" _Never."_ It came out automatically, without even a split second of thinking about the question.

"Even when I potentially try to murder your old best friend and kind of beat the shit out of the both of you while I'm at it? Which I did by the way." He sounded determined, almost as if he was proud of it, but his homeless-guy appearance and his shaking, insecure posture spoke differently.

"You were sad Tony. I can't blame you for being broken." Steve said, and it definitely struck Tony hard, the fact that Steve didn't blame him for all of this. But really, can you blame someone for being broken? According to nearly everyone surrounding him, yes, it was an obvious reason to blame someone for. Apparently, in Steve's mind, this wasn't the case, and it made him wonder if Steve would be able to change his own mind as well.

"Right, err...I'm gonna play with some of my expensive toys, or reconstruct them, whatever. See ya." Tony said, carelessly putting down the still half full cup in the sink. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and made his way over to one of the hallways without making any further eye contact.

"Can I join you?" Steve called after him, admiring the view of Tony's messed up hair from behind as he walked, he looked surprisingly and adorably attractive. Despite the fact that Tony had lost an enormous amount of weight in the past few months, and that he looked terrible in general, he still managed to look sexy somehow.

An arrogant wave of the so called hand was enough to tell the soldier he wasn't needed.

"Ehm, okay then. I'll just, entertain myself with some… " his eyes scanned the living room for something that could possibly amuse him. There laid all kind of stuff; a book about scientific things he truly wasn't interested in, a half-eaten rotting banana - ew, he had to clean that up for sure - and… He furrowed his brows as he noticed his old art supplies randomly laying on the couch. "I guess I'm just gonna just sketch things then."

He walked over to the kitchen first to get some plastic gloves to clean up the banana. After an one minute search of going through all the cabinets, he found them and went back to the living room. Disgusted, he picked up the rotten banana, ran over to the window, and threw it outside. He watched the banana fly through the sky until it landed on top of someone's car down below.  
"Whoops." Steve whispered in shock, feeling utterly bad for whoever that car belonged to. It looked quite expensive as well, hopefully, no one would sue him for throwing a rotten, now splashed banana on their car.  
He stepped back into the kitchen, took off the gloves and threw them in the trashcan. He then marched back to the living room and fetched some of his pencils and his sketchbook from the couch. He sat down and laid it on his lap. It was a miracle Tony had kept this thing, after all that has happened.

After he had opened it, he browsed through the many sketches he had made of his teammates, especially Tony. There were some great moments in here. The one time they all tried to pick up Thor's hammer, the time Clint's butt was stuck in one of the vents, and that time when Tony fell asleep in a bowl of cereal, which seemed absolutely adorable. He flipped the page, meeting his last made drawing of Tony and Steve himself boxing at the gym, he noticed there were some dried, light grey spots on the paper. It looked like someone had spilled water drops on it, or as if someone had cried above the sketchbook.

 _And the only one who could've gotten his hands on his sketchbook was Tony._

Steve sighed, flipped the page and started drawing a curled up human form, holding a little, thin book close to his chest.

* * *

Tony's eyes fluttered open as he awoke from his undisturbed slumber. He squeezed his eyes to tiny splits and looked around in the dark room that was spinning from the headache he was experiencing. He was about to rub his knuckles in his eyes to add more effect to the 'I've just woken up' cliché, but abruptly froze as he noticed two people standing in his room. From the figures and the voices, he could tell that one of them was a lady, but he was too heavily sleepdrunk to tell who they actually were.

"He's just a selfish prick, why can't you just face it?"

"Because he's my buddy, well, he was. I think, I guess." The man said awkwardly, avoiding the glare of the woman by looking at the ground. She stood near Tony's bedroom window and the other guy was leaning against the wall, just next to the bedroom door, so there was no way to escape from them.

"He doesn't deserve to walk on this planet anymore." she said with an unnatural blank face.

"You're gonna _kill him_!?"

"No, I'm putting him to sleep, for a while - maybe forever."

"That's cruel, but… I think it's - No!" he stood firm, pointing a threatening finger at her. "You can't do that!"

"Your arrows ain't gonna stop me, Clint." she crossed her arms and shifted her gaze to the person laying in that bed, horrified to say at least. "Ah, look who's awake." She said mockingly. She walked over to the side of his bed and turned on the lamp that stood on his night stand. Tony waved his hands in front of his eyes from the sudden increase of light, but soon enough, he was partly acclimatized to his surroundings and calmed down a bit. His head was still hurting, but the spinning had stopped so the person in front of him was close enough to be seen now.

That red hair, those eyes.

That face in general.

 _He'd seen it before._

 _Natasha?_

"Hello Stark. Seems like you were having a rough night."

He wanted to keep his mouth shut; he was afraid, especially after those things he'd heard them say, but he felt the urge to say something witty to catch her off guard. These were his friends for god's sake, he had fought wars with these people. So he had to look strong, even though he was mentally as weak as a brainy mess of wiggling plumb pudding.

"Oh, well, it seems like you're having a bad hair day." he blurted out, his voice unwillingly shaking.

"Hey that's -" Clint jerked up from his current hanging-against-the-wall position, but was calmed down by Natasha, who gestured him to shut up.

"Thanks. You don't look quite on your best either. What's happened, finally took off your make-up for once?"

"I don't need no painting tools to look handsome, unlike you."

"Cute how you're trying to insult me. You want to turn this into a who-can-create-the-best-insults-contest? I bet I'll win. Let me think of one - ah, right!" She sat down on the edge of the bed and turned her upper body to Tony, her face only some inches away from his. They stared intriguingly into each other's eyes, as if trying to win a staring contest. Natasha's eyes were quite pretty, but Tony saw them as a predator's threatening eyes; an emotionless gaze that could kill you if you didn't pay attention for a moment. So that's exactly what Tony tried to not do, he kept on staring into her eyes, his expression becoming less angry and changing to a hopeless one as he listened to the story she had to tell.

"Tony Stark, you're a _loser_ , a _pathetic failure_. You've managed to kill dozens of people, you've destroyed their lives, you never listened to any of us, and even though I stood by your side for a short time, I ended up choosing no side but still believing you were the one who caused all this drama; Sokovia, Ultron, this ridiculous war between you and Steve; and all that because you wanted to profit yourself, you _selfish bastard._ "

He didn't dare to say anything, so he just fiddled with his bruised hands and tried not to look away.

"And other than that; out all of people, you called Steve; the one person who hates you the most, the person who you've fought a war against, how adorably stupid is that? _Steve despises you_ Tony, he doesn't care about you. In fact, he only came here to keep you alive so several organizations can use you to produce weapons for them. The Starks have always been great at making weapons, and boy you must know how much worth your intelligence is."

 _Stark Industries. Making weapons._

Forcefully?

 _The Jericho._

 ** _Afghanistan._**

Gunshots rang in his ears, screams of soldiers and broken glass covered with their blood flew through his circulating mind. He felt the glass stinging inside his head, the bombs blasting in his chest; then, he could no longer breathe properly. All the oxygen had been taken away from the environment in some magical kind of way; water ran up his nose and filled his lungs, he wanted to scream, but only muffled sounds came out through his cracked lips. He was roughly pulled up again, and he spit out water and blew his nose in the cold, dry air. He managed to open his eyes a bit, but before he could see anything; he was forcefully pushed back into the water to fight for his life once again.

Tony's eyes widened and he looked shockingly at the redhead, trying to process the horrors of the flashbacks. He tried so hard to snap out of it, but she just smirked at him. "Exactly Tony, they're going to bring you back to that lovely cave, they're gonna drown you, but they'll just pull your head out in time so you can breathe again, only to get drowned again soon after."

"How - how do you...?" he stuttered, feeling cold shivers ran up his spine. He couldn't breathe.

"How do I know? I know nearly everything about you, everyone does. They _all hate you_ , and they'll try and use anything in their might to hurt you - even Steve." she grinned and looked Clint who stood in the door-frame. He nodded. "Especially Steve."

She turned back to him, looked at the arc reactor and stroked over it with her decently nail-polished fingers, as if she was petting a puppy, but more scarier and intimidating. "You're not gonna need that anymore."

He stared down at the glinstering circle of light shining through his t-shirt, watching as Natasha moved her fingers up to his chin, gently pushing his head back up again so he should be looking at her, he didn't though; his mind was a blur and he just couldn't find the strength to focus properly.

"Tony, do you want the world to become a peaceful place?"

She furrowed her brows as he didn't answer the question. "Hey, look at me." she said strictly, waving her free hand in front of his eyes.

"Dude, wake up." He heard Clint faintly say.

"Snap out of it Stark, you're not in Afghanistan!" Natasha shouted, her voice drumming through the room. Then Tony finally noticed the hand moving in front of him, quickly blinked a couple of times and brought his gaze towards the woman, eyes teary and red from the stress. She stopped waving as soon as she realized she had partly caught his attention and continued speaking.

"Do you want to save the world, Tony? Do you want to make people forget all the mistakes you've made? Do you want to stop the world from taking more harm? Do you want to be _a real hero?_ "

He nodded after each question asked, feeling the burning ball of guilt increasing inside his stomach and chest as he thought of the many desperate ways he had tried to better this falling world, but had failed miserably.

"It starts with ending yourself."

"I've tried that already… " he managed to say quietly in between the shallow breaths he took, disappointed in himself, he looked down at his lap.

"Then try again."

"How… "

She poked against his chest, right in the middle where the arc reactor belonged. "Destroy this."

"But, Steve…?"

"Steve doesn't care about you."

"He... I - I don't… kn-"

"Do it. It's time to say goodbye."

"Yeah, c'mon Mr. Genius." Clint added.

For a slight moment, he listened to his quickened heartbeat inside of his chest. If they were real, Nat and Clint could surely hear the thrumming sounds too, or was he the only one?

He pulled out the arc reactor with a quick twist of his hand, and brought it in front of his face for a second. As if he was admiring it, he stared at the piece, his so called masterpiece that had caused a wave of destruction and catastrophe in the world. He couldn't believe he was actually believing them and that he doing as he was told.

"Remember. There's _no reason_ for you to live on this planet anymore, this is the only way." she was practically smirking like a sadistic psychopath right now.

"No reason… " he whispered out, looking at the arc reactor he held in front of him. Was this his end? Dying in a bed with no one else beside him but people who wanted him to die?

 _"_ _ **Tony?"**_ A voice echoed in the far distance. He looked up, eyes searching for the familiar voice he had heard. Natasha had seemed to notice it too, pulled one of her guns and held it against the temple of his head. Shocked, he stared up at her, disbelieving of the fact one of his teammates would actually shoot him.

"Don't listen to him. That narcissistic piece of spangled latex doesn't care - and won't ever care. He's just pretending to."

He really didn't want to believe that.

"Get up" she screamed, waving the gun in his direction.

"Wha-"

"Get up!"

Shocked, he dragged himself out of his bed, hands pointing to the ceiling, his one hand still holding the arc reactor. Natasha kept her gaze fixated on him, as a predator watching luring on its pray. She stood up and followed his movements with the gun. Tony's wobbly legs felt like they were made out of paper, or jenga blocks; one unfortunate misstep and everything would fall apart, all the way onto the ground. So he stood there, back leaning against the wall with a gun now aimed at the gaping hole in his chest.

 **"** ** _Wake up!"_** It sounded like static from far away, the words sounded vague. With gritted teeth, he stared down at the ground. His headache was getting worse within seconds, it felt like his skull was about to burst and as if his eyes would jump out of his head.

 ** _"Snap out of it, please!"_**

Was the voice calling for him?

 ** _"Listen to me!"_**

Suddenly, thunder filled the sky with unexpected flashes of light, it lit up the darkened room for a quick moment ; the enlightenment made him close his eyes abruptly as he plunged into one of the corners of the room. A shot rang and he clenched the arc reactor in his hands and curled up into a tiny little human ball, head dug deep down in his knees. Shadows danced on the walls as the light was travelling through the room, and soon enough, darkness had taken its place again, but this time only in his head.

 ** _"Tony!"_**

He slowly opened his eyes again, only to see and feel that he was standing outside in the cold, pouring rain. Heated sweat got washed away from his face, droplets clinged to his lashes, falling down as he blinked repeatedly. Where was he? Where had Natasha and Clint gone to? A freezing shiver rushed through his entire shaking body as he noticed was standing on one of the many balcony's on the empire-high Stark Tower. As he gasped, breath vapour drifted out of his mouth and faded away in mid-air.

How did he end up here?

His gaze was fixed on the light in front of him; He was holding the flickering arc reactor in his left, trembling hand, holding it over the railing of the balcony. Rain drops fell on top of it and slid to the edges, making a journey of 300 meters down before reaching the ground and splattering into endless molecules. Was he intending to drop it down? If it'd fall, it would break down into a million pieces... Shocked, he wanted to restrain his arm quickly before he'd let it fall, but couldn't find the strength to do so; he stood frozen as a statue in the cold atmosphere of the night.

Suspiciously, he took in his surroundings whereas he didn't know where and how he ended up on this balcony in the first place. Had Natasha brought him here? Was he drugged? Or was he dreaming?

The rain blew neon in the city lights, adding more beauty to the scenario. Tires hissed over the flooded streets, people rapidly passed by, rushing to their warm homes and families. He'd walk a thousand miles through the rain to go to his family, if he'd had one, he thought. Daily and nightly life continued, and so did his. It was a horrible thought, but he actually wondered how many people were standing up high contemplating whether to end their lives or not at this moment. Another roar of thunder roamed through the sky, a flash of lightning blinded him for a split second; the shock almost made him drop his life source to the pavement hundreds of meters down below.

 _Maybe, just maybe, this was his destiny._

Maybe, they had been right about him, his stupid behavior, his selfish acts, everything.

He wouldn't be living on this planet if it wasn't for a reason.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the gushing thunder pounding in his ears. A salty tear slid down his cheek along with the raindrops.

 _"There is no reason."_

There was a loud, desperate scream. Two strong arms wrapped around his waist and he was pulled back inside. That's when he dropped it; the arc reactor fell with a loud clunk onto the ground, casually rolling further on the floor, making its way underneath a small coffee table. Because of his weak legs and shaky posture, he lost his balance and fell over, but was caught in what felt like they were feather soft arms of an angel.

"You're not leaving anytime soon buddy. I got you."

Tony was carefully laid down on the ground, he heard heavy footsteps close by, but they were getting farther away from him. Was his savior leaving him? He then noticed he was absolutely freezing, but his skin felt like hot lava. Where was he again? What was the exact time? He was sensing so many things, but couldn't process them entirely at the same time.

"Steve?" he murmured with his eyes closed, fearfully grasping the air around him. The footsteps came back, and he heard a person's breathing near his face.

"Nothing to 'Steve.' What is wrong with you?" The blonde exclaimed concerned as he plopped back the arc reactor into its place. Steve let out a sigh of relief as the brunette's body jerked upwards, Tony gasped out and coughed heavily. At least, he was back, for now. Steve wiped some rain and sweat off of his friend's awfully looking face. Tony seemed pale as ever, blue bangs were formed around his red, puffy eyes and his lips were once again blue from the cold. His wet hair sticked to his feverishly burning forehead and his clothes were absolutely soaked with rain. For how long had he been standing out there?

Steve decided to pick him up, bridal style, and to bring him to Steve's bedroom instead of his own. There might be bad memories there, demons haunting him. Besides, he could keep a better eye on the genius when he was right next to him. He had expected that Tony wouldn't be heavy at all; and he was right; he weighted enormously light. The guy had lost so much weight in the past few months, it scared him. Steve was definitely going to make him a huge variated breakfast in the next morning, and he'd make sure he would never skip his meals again.

He started walking through the hallways, making his way to his own bedroom. "Don't ever do that again, I thought I'd lost you there."

"Sorr'… I just..."

"You just what? Tried to kill yourself, again? What purpose is that for?"

"There's no purpose. No reason… t' try." he said, snuggling into Steve's chest. "… 'seless."

Steve sighed and looked down at him. "Tony, you're _not useless,_ you're not someone who's done all kinds of terrible bad in this world; villains did that, villains intended to bring harm. Hydra, Aliens, and although his hair is pretty awesome, even Loki. You're not a bad guy. You have only tried to make things better, and as we all know; your plan backfired a bit, but you tried, and that's what matters."

"Backfired a lot - peeps' died. I should be dead, not them."

"Think about the people you've saved." Steve pushed against the door with his shoulder, opening it. He stepped inside the dark bedroom and closed the door with his foot.

"More peeps' died because of me… i'm … worse than a villain. Practically, evil." he said, quietly as ever.

"You're not."

"Why… " his voice sounded defeated, exhausted.

"Why d' you care… " he managed to murmur out before unwillingly closing his eyes.

"Because I think you're not a bad guy. And _you deserve someone who cares_ about you." he said, looking down. A small smile appeared on his face as he saw that the genius had fallen asleep in his arms. Without waking him up again, Steve gently put him down on the bed and wrapped him up under the fluffy, dark blue covers.

Steve thought of hitting the couch or sleep in another bedroom because he didn't want to disturb Tony's slumber, but he also realized Tony could just wake up and try to kill himself again while he wasn't there, so he decided to lay down beside him, even though they were both men and that it was awkward as hell. Steve was not homophobic at all, it was just awkward, laying in a bed with the man you've fought with and almost tried to kill, and who you secretly wanted to kiss at the same time. Steve sighed, even after all what happened, they were fortunately still buddies. He laid on his side and looked at his friend. He kind of enjoyed it, watching the other man sleep. He looked at peace, adorable even. Sleep was his only sweet release from the worries of the world, on condition if he wasn't experiencing any nightmares.

Steve's phone that was settled on one of the fancy wooden night tables, inconveniently started to buzz and to light up. Tony's chocolate brown eyes opened and closed from the light of the phone, Steve sort of smiled. Tony stared at the super soldier in confusion, blinking, his eyelashes brushing against the pillow. He looked extremely cute, Steve thought.

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep." He tried to hide his smile as best as he could. Tony, weary and sleepdrunk rolled his eyes, casually moved toward the other man and nuzzled into Steve's shoulder, his dark brown hair inches from the blonde's nose. He could smell his Tonylike smell, which was too good for words. After a few agonizing minutes, Steve felt him go limp and he smiled huge and big, cradling him to his chest. Steve closed his eyes, satisfied with the peaceful moment he was living in. _He'd check the phone later,_ he thought.

* * *

 **A/N: Wowie! I got so many positive reviews that I decided to make another chapter.** **An incredibly warm hug for the people who offered me support and for the people who told me I'm not alone, seriously, you guys are so lovely, reading those reviews made my day a lot better. Thank you so much.**


	3. Chapter three: Unfixable

**I do not own things and spoilers and stuff.**

 **You know the drill.**

 **Re-published this chapter because something weird happened with the code encryption.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three.**

Steve woke up to the pouting sounds of a what seemed like they were coming from a choking beaver, or like a deeply neighing horse. He hadn't heard them before, he was certain of that. And as he opened his eyes, he immediately realized those sounds weren't coming from beavers and neither from neighing horses; it was the person clinging to his chest that was panting and repeatedly turning his head.

Tony's face was planted into Steve's shoulder, his fingers were shakingly squeezing the soft fabric of his shirt. Steve felt the his fluffy hair itching against his chin, he loved every minute of it, but his concern grew as Tony started to whimper softly. It made Steve want to hold him even closer.

Steve had always had an appetite for wanting to take full care of people close to him. He was loyal, or as Tony called it: 'an overreacting mom' or a 'pussy.'  
These accusations didn't nerve the soldier at all though, he loved every single minute of helping his loved ones. Protecting them, caring and serving them well was his first priority. It had been a shock to find out that they were all gone when he had awoken in this century. Except for Peggy, but unfortunately, she's passed away now as well. The only one he had left was her - darn, he had promised her a last dance for god's sake. Never mind though, she was full on gone now. Nothing to do about it. _He couldn't dance with a corpse._

Steve ran his fingers through the engineer's brown locks as he thought about how bad he wanted to finish that dance with someone. Maybe Tony - No, that'd be weird. The guy couldn't even make up his own mind right now. He was in no state of dancing, but maybe later, or not. He didn't know. He didn't want to think about it either.

Interrupted from the figment of all the past occurrences and dancing cupcakes, Steve soon came back to the beavers and neighing horses. Tony, who was desperately holding onto Steve and almost hugging him to death - if that was possible - seemed to be experiencing yet another nightmare as he was panting and rapidly whispering small inaudible words. The feverish heat flew from his body and hung in the air like warm smoke. Sweat drops were dribbling down his forehead, even his hands were cold and moist.

 _He had definitely gotten sick from standing out in the cold for too long._

"Stop…" Tony murmured quietly, this time hard enough for Steve to hear. The supersoldier wrapped his arms around the body of the trembling genius, pulling him even closer. He didn't know what on earth Tony could be dreaming about, but it certainly wasn't anything cupcakes and rainbows related.

"Stop!" Tony screamed as he ran further down the dark cave. He looked over his shoulder to see if the thing was getting farther behind, but to his misfortune, the green mass of tremendous muscles and firing eyes was still chasing him, atomizing pieces of rock to tiny grains on its way. The ground shook asymmetrically with every step the monster made, the shocking made Tony stumble over his own feet several times, but he still managed to keep his head up.  
He breathed in and out but air wouldn't enter his lungs. Starved for oxygen, his poor heart raced at tremendous speeds, and his lungs shallowly rose and fell in time. He ran there for what felt like an eternity but they were actually only forty seconds more or less.

Then, he abruptly tried to stop, waving with his arms as his feet slid over the rocky ground. Grains of stones and sand flew everywhere and cut the bottom of his sore, aching feet. Small drops of blood flooded from the small gashes to the ground. Tony frighteningly cursed out loud as he came to a halt just before the edge of a gigantic, gaping ravine. His screams gradually echoed down into the black distance below.

Brown pupils jumped to presumably every corner of his eye, checking out the possibilities of escaping his fate. His mind was on fire; it wasn't functioning at all. Drumming sounds banged through his poor head, it was as if someone was using his brain mass as a trampoline at the moment. He had to calm down, he had to think properly before the monster would take him and tear him to small human shreds.

He had to calm down, breathe, he had to -

A loud growl howled through the cave, it was an ear-splitting sound, and it made Tony's headache way worse. He turned his head to the darkness behind him, fearing for whatever kind of beast could be out there, luring at him. He had to think quickly, he couldn't go back, and he could neither jump to his death, but there was no other way out… Fuck, where was his suit when he needed it?

 _"Jarvis?"_

No answer. Of course. He facepalmed himself, Jarvis was dead. He'd gotten him killed. **Him too.** Fuck.

"Friday?" He called out this time. There was still no answer. His second AI had probably been shut off, or was out of reach. Anyway, he was on his own this time.

"Goddamnit… " He whispered to himself.

He remembered the last time he had been trapped in a cave, it was the most horrifying experience he had ever had, and it had left an eerie traumatizing fear of being trapped into small rock-like, isolating places; he had become afraid of caves. He was more afraid of getting a panic attack in a cave though. Caves where some sort of trigger for his anxiety, to his luck. So whenever the team would have to report for a mission in a cave, he'd sit these ones out, and he'd explain everyone there was a monstrous emergency somewhere in another city. Then, the team would offer him some help; meaning they'd split up and someone would go with him, but he would always refuse, as he could handle the situation alone, even though there wasn't a situation at all. He'd suit up and fly around the city for hours, waiting for a status report on the mission his teammates had gone to.

From the darkness came the sound of heavy limbs being dragged across the cave floor. Tony froze immediately. He was out of time. Whatever this monster was, it was massive. Either it dragged its feet or a tail through the undergrowth. It had slowed down its pace as it probably knew his victim had been trapped. It was cruel, but an intelligent way of hunting as well.

With blue chattering lips and trembling muscles Tony stood there helplessly. He realized running had become a non-option as the monster was getting closer each second. He tried to keep his mouth shut from screaming for help, because sooner or later these noises or his smell would lead this predator right to him and took away his tiny chance of escaping, if there was one.

Then, two hideous stripes of green light slowly came closer from the darkness, and he could see the enormous figure of a man, a bodybuilder-like monster standing there, only a few feet away from him. Its skin was green like acid, his black hair was covered with ash and broken rocks and it wore short, ripped pants and **\- wait.**

It had **hair?**

And it wore **motherfucking pants?**

It was wearing motherfucking pants, son of a -

"Bruce?" Tony said, trying to make his voice sound as steady as possible. Goddamnit, he was on the verge of having a panic attack. _Why now? Why ever?_

"Hulk mad! Tony dead!"

Shivers ran up his spine. He just noticed he had started sweating increasingly, when did that happen? He had to stay calm. Breathe. Make a joke. Make a witty remark, like you always do. Lighten the mood, he told himself. Bruce must recognize him, he should, shouldn't he? Stop panicking, you coward.

"That rhymed buddy, nice err… but I'm your friend, remember? Science buddies? I poked you, several times."

Instead of speaking in another caveman-like language, Hulk launched forward, hissing as he reached for the unarmed man. Tony tensed up, ready to spring forwards to duck underneath him, to run for his life, but Hulk had already gotten his hands on him before he could do so.

"Let go of me!" Tony screamed, punching the Hulk on his head. The gigantic guy didn't seem to give a care though, and he squeezed the smaller man in his fist. Tony felt severely humiliated. He hadn't even been able to at least avoid the grappling green hands.

"Hello Man of Iron, you seem troubled." A demanding voice sounded. Who the actual flying potatoes could that be? _Surprise surprise. Our L'Oréal supermodel has arrived_. Tony looked up in relief, only to see the almighty Thor hovering just above the ravine. His heart skipped a beat. He was saved.

"Thor, help me out here will ya?" Tony groaned, trying to push away Hulk's gigantic fingers from his grip on him, but to no avail. Hulk had a straight grasp on his body, and he was slowly squeezing it as if he was squeezing an orange in the most vulgar way. Tony slowly felt his organs getting locked together, his bones starting to break into numerous fragments and he felt his mind becoming a blur of a thousand colours that danced in unrecognizable patterns. All he could hear was Thor's voice and the echoing scoffs of the murderous Hulk.

"I am here to show my slight interest in this game you immortals play, a game that includes a wooden staff and a roundling." Thor said.

"Ya' mean... baseb'll? Fuck tha', use your hamme'… " he managed to shout at the God. He tried to change his painful facial expression to an angry one, but as he couldn't feel anything but pain, he didn't even know if he was moving his eyebrows or lips. His lungs were getting squashed, he couldn't breathe.

"Indeed. Baseball is it, and no worries friend Tony, I will make sure all will go fast. My green coloured friend, could you throw the roundling please?"

His eyes widened in shock. "The hell- "

"Hulk SMASH" Hulk screamed as he prepared himself for the home-run. Tony was thrown in the direction of the Asgardian God, who raised his hammer while he made himself comfortable in a hit-the-ball position. For a moment, Tony was able to take in shallow breaths, but that wouldn't take long.

As Tony came closer, his mighty friend brought his hammer down. Tony saw the shiny surface come down, and it hit him in the stomach. An electric bolt of energy streamed through his muscles and veins, his mouth shot open without sound coming out. He was literally shocked, pun intended. After his body floated in the air for a moment to take in the sudden enlightment, it obeyed the laws of gravity and fell down the ravine.

Everything seemed to pass in slow-motion; he swore he could see the approved look on Thor's face as he fell down to his death, he also swore he could hear Hulk's low growls of laughter echoing through the caves. He tried to hold on to something, but all he could grab was invisible air that seemed completely useless now. There was no way he was going to survive this fall, even as Iron Man, he wouldn't survive.

The worst thing was that he acknowledged the fact that no one would miss him. His teammates wouldn't come looking for him, no rescue worker would either; the ravine was too deep to explore. His body would rot away, small termites and disgusting insects would inhabit inside of his skull, and he would fade away horribly, not ever to be seen again.

 _He was going to die alone._

The world rushed by in a dark blur. Time seemed to slow down as he was falling, but as he knew there was going to be an end to this, he knew it was going to hurt really badly. Then the impact came. He felt his bones move in a way they shouldn't, jangled. Without looking he knew there was blood seeping from skin that seconds ago was smooth. He didn't move - anything to delay the part where he had to take in what he could possibly look like right now. Torn and dirty skin, half decomposing, half dead from the inside, fully dead on the outside.

The pain throbbed in his guts, it was deep and warm, but not in a nice way. It felt like someone had their hand in there and was squeezing his poor already beaten organs, first gently and then as hand as they can... It felt horrible. He was **horrible** , and **alone** , was he?

He couldn't find the strength to open his eyes, but he could hear small sounds of laughter from a faraway distance above. Then they slowly faded away along with heavy footsteps. The electric light of Thor's hammer disappeared together with the only light left in his closing eyes. _Silence._ He was definitely alone, but maybe, _he deserved it._

 _Didn't he?_

* * *

"And so I explored the Internet and its Social Media, without any of your help. I felt like a small child again, exploring unknown grounds. It was scary, but exciting at the same time."

Steve's voice seemed like it was coming from far away. You know that feeling when you're lying in the arms of someone? Your ear is on top of their chest and you can hear their heartbeat and their organs making scrambling and squirming sounds. Disgusting, but restful as well. The best thing is the time when the person's talking. Once you've heard the bass of their voice softly echoing inside their body, you're lost in some sort of trance. It's like listening to an orchestra of cello's and basses while slowly drifting away to numbness.

Tony had only one time felt another person's voice inside their chest, if you'd take it literally. But that was years ago, when he was just a little kid. It had been on a woman's chest too, how inappropriate.

His teary eyes fluttered open. His breathings came in shallow, he was panicking again. He needed to go, he had to leave, be alone, his brains alarmed. He knew he was sweating, as he felt a rainfall of it running down his forehead. How could Steve have not seen this? Speaking of Steve, and speaking of speaking… Wow, that was quite confusing.

Anyway, Steve's voice sounded nice. Soothing almost. Instinctively, it calmed him down a little. However, he felt numb as a lifeless toad plush.

Steve, who had seemed to notice the fuzz, let out a peaceful chuckle in relief. "Good morning. I guess you haven't slept well?"

Tony was still in some sort of dream-mode and didn't take the effort to answer. There was pure silence, only the traffic outside was roaring silently in the background of the chamber. To be honest, he missed his voice already.

"Shall I continue my story? Thought it seemed like a good distraction. You look horrible by the way." Steve said, smiling wide as he randomly insulted the other man. That was so not Steve like, but somehow, it was. Gosh, everything seemed so confusing to the engineer. _What the hell was going on with him?_

As he couldn't make out the words of his own, he just nodded in sincere agreement. He felt the sweat that was formed on his forehead slowly dripping away onto the blonde's shirt. Wait, when had Steve put on a shirt? Tony frowned at the thought, but didn't question it any further as he guessed Steve had probably found some of the clothes that Tony has kept as some kind of memento. Of course, nobody knew about that.

"Right... And then I stumbled upon this site called Tumblr. Man, that site is awful. Moving pictures everywhere. I left it immediately." Steve continued.

"Oh and have you ever heard of Instagram? It's okay-ish I guess. I just don't get it why people must take pictures of their food… Speaking of making pictures, what is up with this selfie-thing? What happened to only making pictures of moments with friends? I don't get it, really. Selfies seem so unnecessary, so… selfish. Man, bad choice of words. You get what I mean right?"

It made Tony lighten up from the inside. He was too weak to move, his mouth wouldn't even function properly, but he felt this burning joy of watching and/or Steve acting like a total social media crazy person. It was quite amusing, and cute as hell. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch a little.

"Right. You're laughing at me. Sorry Mr Stark. I'm not familiar with these so called 'selfishes.' Let me prove it to you that they're impractical. Look." Steve moved a bit to the side, putting lots of effort in not trying to bother Tony, and grabbed his phone from the night table next to the bed. He swiped the screen awake, opened up the camera app and put the phone on selfie mode. His eyes raised triumphantly as he was surprised with a close-up of his face, or more or less, his chin. He then moved his arm around to find the right angle, but as he had no idea what he was doing, he accidentally clicked on a button. A loud 'click' could be heard and Steve almost jumped.

Tony legitimately did. When was the last time somebody had taken a picture of him? It's been months. He didn't even know what he could supposedly look like right now. He didn't want to know either. The stranger in the mirror scared him.

"Oh it made a picture. What do I do? Right let's click on the miniature thingy here… Oh, there it is! We look adorable! … I mean, it looks cool, doesn't it? Look for yourself."

Steve held the phone in front of him. Tony squeezed his eyes to tiny splits from the blue light but as soon as he was adapted to it, his eyes widened for a second and his breath became ragged.

The picture had Steve on it, smiling in an unexpectedly convenient way as the picture had been taken randomly. He looked sweet, perfect almost. No, not almost. Definitely perfect. Adorable even.

He couldn't say so of himself though. Next to Steve in the picture laid Tony, still cradled in Steve's shoulder. He looked absolutely horrible, hideous. Tony was disgusted of the sight of his vulnerable self. He had the urge to break the screen. Slam it with his already aching fists, but only if he hadn't been that weak… One could only dream, or have nightmares in Tony's case.

Steve had seemed to notice the acceleration of Tony's breaths and removed the phone from his eyesight. He didn't understand why the picture had made Tony upset. Maybe it had been the light of the screen, or maybe it had been something else - he didn't know. What he did know, is that Tony was suffering. He was in pain, and Steve needed to do something.

"I'll get you some Advil, wait a sec. I'll be right back. Oh, I'll make you breakfast too." Said Steve as he gently moved Tony to his own side of the bed. He then dragged himself out of the bed and stretched his arms and legs. Before walking out the door, he turned to the sick billionaire.

"Don't do anything stupid, 'kay?"

Tony seemed to move his head in slow-motion, it almost drained all of his energy to look at Steve. He managed to do it though, and he visualised a small explosion of popping confetti and cheering monkeys in his head.

"Y' know me..." He whispered in a rough voice, showing a small chuckle on his dry lips. _When had his throat started to sting that badly?_

"Promise me to stay in bed. I'm serious here." Steve said, opening the bedroom door a bit, waiting. He knew Tony didn't even have the strength to move, or even speak properly right now. Getting out of bed seemed as an impossible task right then, but this was Tony Stark he was speaking to, and Tony Stark could manage to do anything, even if it almost seemed impossible. So yes, Steve was horribly concerned he would do anything to physically harm himself even further. He had already gotten sick, what could be next?

"Try to sleep some more. If you need me, I'm in the kitchen. Just call out for help." Steve exclaimed, shoving the door more open, he looked at the man lying in the bed, waiting for something that could be counted as a response.

Tony closed his eyes, let out a deep, shaky breath and nodded. That was Steve's confirmation he could peacefully leave the room and leave the hurt engineer be. He didn't close the door behind him though, it had been left slightly opened so he could hear Tony when he needed him.

Steve walked through the empty hallways of Stark Tower. His bare foot making clapping sounds on the floor were the only things he could hear and it was disturbing, to say for the least. Once, this tower had been crowded with robots Tony had made, with Natasha and Clint having never ending arguments, Bruce spacing out by seeing Tony pulling one of his awful stunts, Thor exclaiming Shakespeare content and Steve just watching them with a big smile formed on his face. Then there were Pepper and agent Coulson, who kept Tony company when the Avengers weren't present. Pepper had left Tony, or as he called it; they were just taking a break. He didn't believe that nonsense though. The hurt look on Tony's face when he had told him that he and Pepper split up for a while, had told him enough.

 _Coulson, he really didn't want to think about that occurrence._

Steve entered the kitchen and turned on some lights. They made dazzling sounds as they flickered on. It was still early in the morning, and the neon stars were still fading away in the orange blotched sky. The city was fully awake though, as he could hear cars and people roaring outside. The raining had stopped, luckily.

He searched for bread in the cabinets, but couldn't find anything. How could he make a sandwich when there wasn't any bread left? Steve sighed, preparing Tony breakfast seemed more difficult than he thought. He opened the fridge for more alternatives. Cheese, tomatoes, two packs of milk, a pack of strawberry flavoured yoghurt and another rotten banana. Great. Where were these plastic gloves again?

After Steve had thrown the disgusting banana out of the window, (hopefully not on top of that person's car again) he started working on Tony's breakfast. He had poured some yoghurt in a small bowl and was making a fruit salad right now. He didn't have a lot to work with, but that didn't stop him from making a variated, nutritious breakfast.

"Can I help you Captain?" A robotic voice sounded. Steve abruptly dropped the strawberry he was just cutting in half, jolted his head to the right side and shot an angry glare at the coffee machine.

"No, Covis. I'm fine."

"Not to irritate you any longer sir, but you dropped the fruit on the floor. I suggest you wash it off as there's a lot of dust spread on the ground. Mr. Stark hasn't cleaned in a while."

"I can see that." Steve sighed, picking up the lost strawberry. As he didn't want to risk Tony to swallow in more bacteria, he opened the trashcan with his foot and dropped the strawberry in there. He then continued to cut a grape in half, just because he didn't want Tony to choke on one. Gosh, he was really mothering him too much.

"YOU CAN'T JUST THROW AWAY PRECIOUS FRUIT." The coffee machine yelled, if he could yell. It made Steve almost cut in his own hand. That stupid thing. Bothered, Steve dropped the knife and crossed his arms, gazing angrily at the annoying coffee machine.

"Covis, you better let me cut my fruit in peace. Otherwise, I'll make sure Tony will only use the tea kettle from now on." He spoke sternly.

"No, please don't do that. Not the tea kettle. She's evil, you must eliminate her sir."

Steve glanced at the with flowers covered tea kettle that was resting on the counter. He scoffed, questioning if Tony had made the tea kettle alive as well. He unfolded his arms and poked the kettle, expecting to get a disapproving reaction, but he didn't. The kettle remained silent, to his very own luck. If he couldn't handle a coffee machine already, he definitely wouldn't be able to handle two blabbing kitchen machines.

"You look like you could use a coffee Captain. I'll make you a cup." Covis said, already warming up the basin of water inside of him.

The soldier raised an eyebrow. "No, thanks."

"Can I make one for Mr. Stark?"

"No."

"But he likes coffee."

"What are you, five?"

"You are quite right. I'm actually 5 months, 34 days, 6 hours and exactly 26 minutes and 54 seconds old. I was designed by Mr Anthony Stark. He has given me the name Covis 0.1.34 Prope. I am ordered to make coffee in desperate times and I can offer the respective small talk and or life advise." The robot yammered proudly.

"Err. Interesting. Life advice?" Steve said uninterested as he went back to cutting more fruit. He threw a couple of cut grapes in the bowl with strawberries and grabbed an apple.

"Would you like to know the meaning of life, sir?"

Steve sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. "Bite me." He said.

"There is none, sir."

Steve rolled his eyes. Great. He was cutting fruit while being bothered by a suicidal baby coffee machine. What could possibly be worse than that?

Tony coughed. There was _nothing worse_ than being sick like this. He'd rather be locked up with Covis somewhere in the middle of nowhere, if he had a choice. At least, he'd get some coffee then. Steve certainly wouldn't bestow him with a nice cup of coffee now he was this sick.

He sighed. His body was aching and his cheeks were burning with the flush of fever. He hated it how there was no strength in his voice, just a whisper. His breath quivered in short, quick gasps every time he inhaled, his lungs having no choice but to painfully and rigidly take in the air around him. He couldn't seem to stop shaking either. Sometimes it was rough, other times he could manage, but every time he'd get close to sleep, a new spell of violent shaking would force him awake. Nope, he was surely not going to sleep at all. Not without Steve's arms wrapped around him. The soldier seemed to bring him a warmth no one had ever been able to offer him.

"I'll get better. I'll get better... Steve will be back soon..." he repeated to himself in his head, feebly rubbing away at his arms in a sickly attempt to cease the unsettling chill that continued to run down his spine and made his skin crawl.

Tony groaned. Being suicidal had been bad, being delusional as well, but being sick was definitely the top of the iceberg. God darn it, he really hated being sick. It showed everyone how vulnerable he could look, and that was something he really wanted to avoid.

Well he had already shown his whiny, depressive side to Steve. Oh god. He had looked like an actual helpless baby. What the hell was he thinking? Calling out for someone to help him and his sorry ass, that was an desperate coward act. Fuck, he had even threatened to kill himself. He was an absolute whiny baby who just couldn't take care of himself. Damn.

* * *

Steve was finally done preparing Tony's breakfast. He looked at the plate which contained a bowl of various fruits, there was also a bowl with some yoghurt with just a little bit of sugar in it to add some more taste. It wasn't much, and it wasn't that big of a deal, but Steve couldn't help but feel utterly proud.

Before he picked up the plate, he reminded himself of grabbing some Advil for Tony. He was probably suffering from a killer headache right now, and was definitely going to complain as soon as Steve stepped one foot into the bedroom. Not to mention the fact that Tony had probably already pulled some stunt again that could get him killed. Steve tried to have faith in the guy though.

He walked over to the bathroom and opened the door. The bathroom was frighteningly dark. It felt like he was stepping into some sort of darkened void, a black hole. A cloud of overwhelming flowerish and mint scents came over him. He hadn't expected Tony to have such a nice scent in his bathroom. Too bad he didn't smell like these himself. No, it was okay. Steve loved Tony's natural body smell that actually smelled like metal and burning resources. Tony couldn't care less about his appearance when he was working in his lab or when he was just at home, doing things.

As Steve stepped into the bathroom, he felt and heard something crack underneath his feet. Raising one of his eyebrows in suspicion, he flicked on the light, only to be surprised with a terrific sight; glass was spread almost everywhere on the bathroom floor. The mirror had been totally destroyed. Only the bronze frame was still intact, somehow. Steve stepped closer, staring at himself in the small pieces that had been left in the wreckage of a mirror. The reflection was distorted; he looked like some sort of deformed half human monster in between the cracks and gaps. He turned away and decided to take a look at the sink that was filled with sharp pieces of black coloured glass. It looked absolutely horrible, Tony must've hit the mirror with something very hard to make it fly all around the entire bathroom. He wondered why and how this had happened, but he already guessed Tony probably had been in a drunk mood when this accident occurred, so he didn't worry about it too much. Instead, he opened the cabinet underneath the sink, seeking for something to put the glass in. Luckily, he found a small bucket and some leather gloves. He didn't quite understand why Tony had put the leather gloves in the bathroom, but who was he to complain? Besides, Tony might have tried to clean up this mess himself, but gave up and left part of it laying there.

Steve put on the leather gloves and started picking up small pieces of glass. Of course, he could easily do it without gloves. He could stand the pain and he'd heal faster, but he didn't feel like having little annoying pieces of shards in his hands today.

After some minutes, Steve was almost done picking up the biggest parts. He would later vacuum the place to make sure there weren't any small pieces left. His thought of leaving it like that soon disappeared as his eye caught a small gap underneath the cabinet. Steve was sure there could be some more glass under there, so he ducked and felt with his right hand, shoving the remaining mess to the front. He crouched and looked at all the stuff he'd caught; an old toothbrush, some sleeping pills and more pieces of glass. But this time, there was something different. Steve picked up one big shard and stared at it, mouth partly opened as he realized why the bathroom had smelled so clean and neat.

Tony had tried to clean up the traces of blood with cleaning products with extreme aromas.

Steve was quite shocked, not only had he not expected Stark to actually clean things up, he was surprised by the fact he had inflicted this much pain on himself. Punching mirrors didn't seem like a nice, peaceful thing to do. It also explained the bruises on his hands. Steve wondered how many mirrors Tony had destroyed already. This wasn't the only bathroom in the tower, it was the closest one to his bedroom though. He took another look at the shard that was covered with dried blood.

 _Tony's blood._

Steve clenched the shard in his with leather covered hands. If he hadn't wore those, he'd definitely cut himself in the hand right now. The thought that Tony had been standing here, hating on himself, punching and swearing at his own reflection angered the supersoldier. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed his entire mind and body. Because how was he supposed to confront Tony with this? He knew, and Tony didn't want him to know. That's why he had cleaned up the blood.

Steve sighed for the hundred time this week. He might just ask Covis for some life advice again.

* * *

 **/AN/ (I'm ranting here, please don't come after me with a pitchfork)**

 **Alright. So I got this review that said I haven't seen the movie and that I changed Tony's character too much. Erhm, you're partly true. I kind of changed Tony's sassy, introverted character to a "whiny little bitch" as you mentioned. It's a major change to his personality, but that's what happens when you're broken. You change. You become mentally unstable. Tony's gone through a lot. He has been able to cope with it all, but losing Steve, losing everyone had taken away the final piece of his already broken heart. He's done. That's why he's acting like a whiny little bitch. Am I right? Also, excuse you, I've seen the movie about 4 times now. I didn't really like the ending that much, so I changed it to my own liking. I didn't take a long bathroom break, I watched every move. Everything Tony said and felt. Guess what? He's broken. If you've seen the movie, you would've noticed that. Thanks for telling me your opinion though.**

 **Sorry my lovely readers for this stupid reaction. I just can't stand people who scold at others for being imperfect while they don't even know the reason behind it nor have a good argument for bashing a writer. I'm not saying I'm perfect, I'm far from perfect. That's why I take these negative reviews seriously. I mean, you guys can criticise me. Just do it in a mature way. Don't tell me I haven't seen the movie and that I suck at writing because you don't like it. Tell me what's wrong, so I can better myself and the story.**

 **This is of course, directed to one person who wrote a negative review based on expectations and bashing someone. I got so many positive reviews as well. Someone was actually balling their eyes out from reading this story. Woops! I'm sorry I made you cry. Well, I'm not sorry. I mean, this story is sad, but that's the point right? Someone even said that they admire my writing skills. Holy cow! That's such a huge compliment. I'm Dutch, and English isn't my first language, so yeah. It's a huge compliment for me. Thank you. There are more reviews, and they make me so happy. You guys have no idea. I mean, as a person who's suffering from all kinds of mental disorders, (including feeling no emotion) I somehow get excited when I read your views on this story. Really, this keeps my head out of the darkness of depressive thoughts. Thank you so much. If I had a cake, I'd definitely give you a huge piece.**

 **I will write more though! I don't really know where this story's going, but I will definitely write more ;D. Do you have any ideas for upcoming chapters? Please tell me! And don't forget to leave a review! I will always try to PM the persons who reviewed to say a personal thank you :).**

 **Toodles!  
-Skye**


	4. Chapter four: Noticeable

**I do not own things and spoilers and stuff.**

 **And I do not follow the exact rules of the MCU … Ah well… You know me by now : D**

* * *

 **Chapter Four.**

"This isn't that bad." Tony snarked, pinching his fork into an innocent strawberry before plopping it into his mouth. He'd already devoured the _entire_ bowl of yogurt and had just started working on the colourful fruit salad. He hadn't had a full on variated breakfast since a long time. He had practically lived on coffee and cereal in these past few months. No kidding. _Cereal only._ Sometimes, he'd sit on his bed with a whole package of cereal, sadly watching stupid cat videos to cheer himself up. Obviously, eating the cereal like someone would casually eat chips did certainly not satiate his hunger in any kind of way, and the ridiculous cat videos couldn't even wreak a thin smile on his face.

Steve had unilaterally decided that he couldn't live on plain cereal any longer. He had basically forced him to nurture himself in a much healthier way. Pepper used to do these things, but she wasn't there and he didn't want to treat himself with billionaire meals. In his mind, he didn't deserve such luxury for the least bit, but he subconsciously didn't show that with other people around.

"You expected this to be bad? Why, thank you for having faith in me." Steve said. He was lying down beside his friend. The bed was big enough for the both of them because Tony had – of course – tried to get as much luxury and gadgets for his friends, his family. On the contrary of the high tech engineer, Steve preferred just a casual, normal bed like in the old days.

Tony gave him a brittle smile. "Welcome." he changed his position so that he was closer to the edge of the bed. Then, he abruptly swiped all the things from the night table that was standing next to his bed. It was done with such an unneeded force that the books flew to the other side of the room, a pen rolled underneath a coffee table and some sleeping pills disappeared into nothingness. Steve almost stood up to pick everything up, but he had already accepted Tony's bluntness and decided to clean it up later. The brunette innocently smiled at him, to which Steve shook his head in a disapproving way. Tony shrugged indifferently, gathered the two dirty bowls and crudely put them onto each other before placing them onto the now empty night table. He did the same with the other crockery.

"That's one way to go. Anyway, Covis is a real pain in the bum." Steve directly complained. That suddenly brought something to his mind; it was really fortunate that Tony hadn't designed the coffee machine to be able to walk. Then, Covis could just jump into bed with them at any time. A talking coffee machine in bed with a coffee-addicted person. Now **that's** something to avoid.

"He's supposed to be like me. I guess that worked out pretty well." Tony explained. Then, he raised his right eyebrow, stared at the blonde and mockingly titled his head to the side. "Did you just say bum?" he smirked.

Steve ignored his irrational question without even thinking about it. "Does he also clean up things in such an offbeat way?" He asked in the most formal way ever.

"Don't know, you should ask him. But you said bum."

"I think I don't want to." The corners of his mouth quirked up with a quick movement. "And yes, I said bum. Can't handle your pal using groovy words?"

"They do sound fancy. I think I'm going to use bum instead of ass from now on. It sounds quite British, doesn't it?" he rhetorically asked. Then, he shifted his gaze and dramatically stared into the distance of the room before speaking with his best British accent ever. "Are you totally bollocks? Blimey, you bloody wanker, why must thy speak so much rubbish? I shall scream that thy don't know your onions." His pupils then sprung back to look at Steve's horrified expression; his eyes were dilated and he was gaping at him in confusion.

"What?" Tony asked carelessly. The blonde's mouth then twitched, and he certainly couldn't keep his laugh hidden anymore.

"What the hell Rogers?" Tony asked in the most serious way possible - _not._

Steve then shook his head, corners of his eyes crinkled. "That was ridiculous."

"That is offensive to British people... " Tony spoke, feeling a sudden itch stinging in his throat.

"I'm pretty sure no British person actually talks like that. Onions?"

"Downtown Abby and -" Tony couldn't finish his sentence as he fell into a small coughing fit, he held his chest from the stinging pain building up inside his lungs. Tears prickled his eyes and his skin went scarlet. Steve had already rushed over to his side to smack on his back in his most gentle way, which was still hard in the genius's opinion. Tony managed to get some air again after a while and started to calm down while Steve hung over him to presumably check every atom on his face. The brunette looked at him and gave him a half-smile, signalling he was okay now. Steve then sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at his friend with his brows knitted in a frown.

"Thanks." whispered Tony with a rough voice, biting on his bottom lip. He looked down at his lap and twirled a part of the sheets around his fingers. He felt utterly embarrassed, he could've handled the coughing fit on his own.

"You're still sick, you should probably rest some more. Without putting up British accents." Steve said, already having put the craziness and cheers aside.

"Hm-hm." Tony was sure he looked like a small child right now. Hopeless, sick and weak - not that every child's weak and hopeless, but he looked like one in general. He had wanted people to notice him - his friends noticing his pain and coming out to help him, but he didn't want them to worry about him either. It was quite the paradox, he wanted them to worry, but not worry about him at the same time. Wait, worrying was different than caring. That was the right word; he wanted them to care.

Another thing was that he surely didn't want to ever have nightmares of the team killing him again. Clint threatening him, Natasha almost shooting him, Hulk throwing him off a ravine, Thor actually slamming him down the ravine... The only person who hadn't threatened or actually murdered him yet was Steve.

Over all, he'll always be taunted by these pathetically modified delusions. Heck, he wasn't even certain if he was living in reality right now. What if this was the nightmare-Steve that was trying to kill him? It was possible that this Steve was going to stab him in the back, it was possible. Or was it? Damnit, this was all so confusing. He had to find out whether this Steve was going to kill him or not. He just had to figure out if he was living in reality or in some sort of figment of his weary brain.

Tony looked up at the super soldier in determination.

"Steve, let's fight." he said, watching how his friend's expression changed from worry to sudden surprise.

"What? No." The blonde spoke with a slight hint of disgust in his voice.

"Let's spar. I want to see if I still have the strength to take on the almighty Captain America."

Steve shook his head in disapproval. "First of all, I'm not in a fighting mood right now. Second, you look pathetic and I don't want to hurt you again."

"I will poke you if you won't fight me." Tony threatened.

"You're sick! Literally. You barely have the strength to stand up! How are you going to fight?"

"I can do it." he squabbled, getting ready to step out of bed.

"Tony please - "

"I can do it. Just - " With a small groan, he managed to lever himself up from the bed. His legs wobbled for a slight moment, and Steve had already risen to come to his rescue, but he regained his balance again as soon as he seeked support from the wall. "Tada!" He exclaimed happily, unconfidently trying to stand without the help of a wall. He managed to so in just a couple of seconds, and proudly looked at the other man's way.

Steve crossed his arms and shot him an unimpressed glare. "I'm still not agreeing to this."

Tony rolled his eyes in frustration. "Then I'll go and punch a bag myself. You either come and fight me, or I'll just take my anger out on a lifeless sack and I won't hold back. Your choice." he sassily turned around and stumbled his way out of the master bedroom, heading towards the specially Avengers-modified gym that was one floor below. Steve followed his lead like a mom watching her offspring. Sometimes, Tony would almost fall over from the dizziness of the sickness he'd been gifted by standing in the pouring rain - that stupid suicidal fool. Whenever Tony almost lost his balance, Steve would wrap his arms around him to keep him up, yet Tony didn't accept his help for the least bit. He pushed him away, telling the confused soldier he could handle it alone.

"You're so stubborn." Steve muttered as he walked behind the stumbling and toddling engineer, watching him closely with narrowed eyes, glowing with concern. One way or another, Steve knew he was going to fall splat on the hard ground. This time though, he'd be there to catch him, even though his friend kept on trying to push him away in his always unregenerate state.

They both eventually made their way over to the elevator, Tony pressing the button to the gym floor, and Steve still following him like an overprotective mama bird. The stubborn man leaned against the elevator's wall, slowly puffing air in and out. His lungs hurt every time he took a breath, the world was gradually spinning around him, but that didn't stop him from finding out if this Steve was fake or not. He was still able to talk and to move, that was what matters.

The genius looked at the blonde standing in front of him, arms crossed and brows furrowed. In an instance, as if it was a miracle, Steve stared down at him. Their eyes met, and Steve, who was unable to endure the silence, decided to speak up.

"I'm not going to fight you, Tony. You're sick and mentally unstable. You don't have to fight, you don't have to get physically stronger right now."

 _"Fine."_

"So that means you'll accept my help and go back to bed now?" Steve asked hopefully.

The elevator doors opened; they had arrived at their destination - Tony's destination. "No." he said before barging out the box. Steve rolled his eyes, unfolded his arms and walked behind him. The blonde knew he could easily pick up the smaller man and drag him over to his bed, yet he didn't do it. In his opinion, Tony had to find out himself that he just wasn't mentally and physically stable enough to actually go out and do things that require strength and coordination. He had to feel his exhaustion in any other way, and eventually oblige to it. It was a nasty tactic, but it had seemed to work before, so why not use it again, was Steve's vision. Still, he really didn't want to bring down Tony's health even more.

"You know, you should stop proving yourself to be strong, because you're currently not." he tried again, in hope the engineer would give up on his 'okay-act.' It worked the other way around though; Tony only felt the urge to prove himself grow even bigger. _That stupid ego._

"For goodness sake Steve, I can do it! Watch me." Tony sneered, making his way over to the big gym.

"I'll definitely watch you." Steve mumbled to himself. The nostalgia hit him as he stepped one foot back into the giant gym hall. He had spent most of his time there, killing one punching bag after the other, as if there as an unlimited supply. He was mostly the only person who would hang out there, as Clint and Natasha would work out in the dummy-simulation room, Bruce didn't have to work out and Tony... Well Tony was just being Tony. It was always him and the punching bag. Tony had even designed new bags that would be able to endure his strength. Side note - they didn't.

So why would Tony randomly go and smash a so called Captain America proof punching bag, if he'd never been in the gym before?

 _Because of that goddamn ego._

"Earth to Steve?" Tony was waving his hand in front of the super soldier's eyes. When he noticed he got his attention, he held up a black T-shirt and some new grey jogging pants with red stripes he'd apparently fetched from a locker. "I'm going to need to get dressed. In case you don't want to see my dick, I think you should go and wait somewhere else." he said, raising one eyebrow. "Or you could just turn around. Your call."

Steve could notice the sweat already forming on his friend's feverish forehead. This wasn't a good idea at all. Why did he agree to this? Oh, right - he didn't. It was just that he couldn't stop Tony whatsoever, and he wanted to teach him a lesson too. "I'm sure you're going to regret this." he replied.

"I don't regret anything, never ever." Tony answered with a rough and painful voice, shaking his head for emphasis.

"Even Sokovia?"

That seemed to trigger something inside the genius's mind. His eyes shifted to the ground within a second, and he suddenly seemed to have trouble breathing as well. "... Just turn around Rogers." he sighed out, making a rather weak 'turn around' gesture with his free hand. Steve passively turned his back to the engineer who immediately started undressing himself. Steve could hear a piece of clothing fall down to the neat wooden ground, and he tried to keep himself from turning around. To distract himself, and to get some insight into Tony's mind as well, he casually continued the conversation.

"Do you regret making Ultron?"

He heard a long sigh from behind. "That was one of the worst mistakes I've ever made." Tony admitted, shocking the blonde with his honest answer. Maybe, they were finally getting somewhere.

"Do you regret signing the accords too?" Steve asked carefully, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked down at his feet, waiting for an answer.

"If I knew I'd lose you... - everyone like that, I would've never signed it in the first place... You can look again, by the way."

Steve turned around, facing the now slightly shaking brunette. The black shirt was way too big for him, and the jogging pants didn't fit that well either. He gave him a puzzled look, these clothes looked way to familiar.

"Are you wearing _my_ clothes?"

Tony fiddled with his hands, subconsciously putting on his well-known big puppy eyes. "Uhm. I don't know. You've probably left them here and... I accidentally grabbed them... Yeah, I guess so." he awkwardly rambled.

The blonde snickered. "That's cute."

Tony looked up, raising one eyebrow. "Are you implying that I'm cute?" he asked, trying to hide his smile. Steve's eyes went wide within a second as he realized he'd said yet another gay thing in front of this man. He seriously needed to get his feelings together, otherwise he might end up kissing the guy one way or another.

 _Wait what?_

Out of awkwardness, he stereotypically rubbed behind in his neck, looking down to the ground. "Well... ehm. I - I didn't mean it like that, I mean..." he stuttered.

Tony shook his head, waving with his right hand. "Don't worry about it, shit happens."

"I guess... Are you sure you wanna do this? We could always go back and do less energy taking stuff. Like reading a book. " he suggested, but soon got the idea that Tony didn't approve the idea of reading. Especially reading real life books, on real life paper.

"Or something else." he corrected himself, in hope Tony would give in and just stop this stupid act.

"I can do it." he snorted, wrapping up his fingers and hands with dark blue coloured wraps. The still noticeable bruises on his hands caught Steve's attention again. They were slowly starting to fade away, but they were still there. He still had to experiment if Tony was actually afraid of mirrors or not - he'd try something out after the stubborn bastard was done with his so called work-out.

Meanwhile, Tony had put his heavy bag gloves on and had already made his way over to one of the hanging punching bags. Steve decided to sit down on the floor, his back resting against the wall. He'd watch his friend closely. After all, he was still sick and in absolutely no condition to even fight, but he had to learn his lesson somehow. It was only the question if he'd really give up on being strong once he was done. That was the thing; Tony Stark never gave up. He'd broken down once, gotten himself together again, and had to break again for a chance to get fixed. It was like a car; you first have to open up the entire thing before you can actually fix it. Tony had to open up for once, only then, Steve would be able to help him.

The loud sounds of fists hitting the leather echoed through the entire gym hall. The blonde looked up; Tony was continuously smashing the punching back, without holding back whatsoever. He really tried to demolish it, and even though it was nothing compared to his own strength, it still impressed the super soldier somewhat. Even when he was sick, had a fever and hadn't slept properly for ages, even when he had lost some weight and had no energy, he was still able to punch that fricking bag. Well done Stark, he'd done the job. He had proved that he was strong, even though Steve was already aware of that.

More sweat started to pour down his face, and his breathing became louder each second. If he wouldn't calm down, he'd hyperventilate or get a panic attack.

And he was totally right about that. Tony was still repeatedly punching the stupid bag. He only wanted to look strong in front of this man who could do anything. He wasn't a weak pussy, who needed help when he had a coughing fit, he didn't need any help from anyone. As if they cared, as if this fake Steve actually cared.

His breathing started to get more shallow with each punch. He swear he saw the red leatherish surface of the bag moving towards him. The air was thick with moisture, sweat lingering in the air. Tony stopped abruptly, and tried to catch his breath again. Instead, he ended up gasping for oxygen, but he couldn't - the walls were suddenly closing in. The darkness was overwhelming. It felt suffocating - he was suffocating.

Faces of his teammates started to dwell around him, screaming and shouting his mistakes at him; they called the names of the people that were killed because of his inventions. He knew all of them, he had looked them up; he had seen the hate messages towards him.

He took off the gloves and tore off the wraps, throwing them in a random direction. Then, he looked down at his hands, realizing they weren't actually his hands. Or were they? A weird feeling started to rumble inside of his stomach, a burning, yet ice-cold feeling that could be described as a mix of shock and confusion. He didn't recognize himself anymore, his hands, his body parts, they weren't his. He wanted to throw them away, he wanted to get rid of these strange fingers, yet he couldn't. Scream, was his next thought – but scream for what, for who?

 ** _He needed help._**

"Cap?" he whispered, looking around, his vision inconveniently blurred and his body shaking. The room wasn't even recognizable anymore; everything had become blurry and distorted. Had the bastard just left? He knew it, it was a trick to kill him. He was going to die - Steve had killed him.  
The thoughts were accelerating inside his head. He wanted them to slow so he could breathe but they wouldn't. He felt his heart hammering inside his chest. The room was spinning around him, and he squatted onto the floor. He felt so sick, so confused.

 _"I'm here."_

He felt a strong hand massaging his shoulder, and looked up.

"Steve?" he muttered, voice breaking.

The super soldier had settled down beside him. He looked into his eyes. "I'm here, breathe. You're safe, with me, in the gym. Remember? You're wearing my clothes, and you still look cute."

"Cu... -cute?"

Steve brought him closer to his chest and started gently caressing his hair. That seemed to calm the genius down a bit, but he was still looking pale and sweaty; it was as if he'd run a marathon, or climbed an enormous mountain without wearing the suit. "Yes. Breathe in, and out. Slowly, like that... Good job. You really pushed yourself to the limit on this one, buddy." he said soothingly.

Tony turned his head a little, looking into the soldier's eyes. "I proved... you wrong." He stuttered.

"Yes, yes you did. You proved me wrong. You're a tough one." Steve said. He really was impressed by the fact that the genius had tried to exercise, even though it wasn't a good idea at all.

"You're not going to kill me?"

That seemed to catch him off guard for a second. Tony thought his intention was to murder him? He wondered where he'd gotten that idea from – maybe that was what he saw in the nightmares. Steve shrugged off his detective-like thoughts, realizing he had to be alert and caring right now instead of rationally analyzing his friend. "Of course not. What makes you think that I would straight up kill you?"

He shrugged, not wanting to bring up the nightmares yet. "Everyone does..."

"You look very alive to me... or do you feel different?" he asked, observing the painful look on his face. Tony nodded.

"You feel dead? Like a zombie?" Steve guessed, making a mental note that he had to look up some information about several mental disorders on the internet. He couldn't diagnose him, and taking him to a counselor was absolutely out of question since Tony hated these things.

"I do."

"What do you see when you look into the mirror then?"

"Nothing..."

"Nothing?"

"Darkness... Unrecognizable shit..." he let out a shaking sigh. _"A monster."_

They had gone through this already - several times actually. He had to convince him that he wasn't a terrible human being, but that was going to be harder than said. Why did Tony always tell himself that he should grow some balls and that he should stop whining? Why would anyone do that in general? Developing a high self-esteem isn't something you do in one day. You can't just tell someone with a broken leg to stand up and run towards a hospital themselves; they're going to need some help with that. Just like someone with a low self-esteem – you need to help them burst through their insecurities.

"You're not a monster. Snarky teeth and a cold heart defines a monster. The last time I checked, you didn't have either of those."

"Still..."

"You're a gift to this world, to this entire universe." He carefully took Tony's cold hand into his own and slowly placed it over the engineer's heart. "Feel that?" he began. Tony looked at their hands, and he felt his own heart beating irregularly down in his chest. In discomfort, he then looked back at Steve, mouth slightly opened.

"That's called _a purpose._ You're alive for a _reason._ Don't you ever forget it." He spoke determinedly, giving a light squeeze in Tony's hand as he still held it. They stared at each other for a moment, one going through all reasons why he shouldn't be alive, and one going through the reasons why he should keep on living.

"And you're not a monster." Steve continued. "You're just a confused man who has made some mistakes. Everyone has to live with their failures, no matter how big. You can do it too. I know you can. You don't have to prove yourself, because I believe in you." He said, looking into Tony's glassy eyes. Eyes filled with disbelief; his rationalistic reasoning was telling him not to fall for this, but his heart was telling him there was still hope, there was someone who cared - he was safe with his friend. Steve wasn't going to kill him, he was real.

Steve sighed. "When I just came out of the ice, I was confused and I felt… detached from reality. The world I once knew was completely gone – been wiped away, and I hadn't experienced it. It was hard to trust people, it was hard to walk around knowing everything could be just a dream… " He fell silent for a couple of seconds, remembering the night's he'd spent walking around the city, learning new things and missing his old, usual home. He gave another light squeeze in Tony's hand to catch his attention again. "Thing is, I learned to believe in people, and in myself and my surroundings too. You might feel like you're living in a nightmare right now, but I'll get you out of it. Whether you're stuck in reality or fantasy, I'll be there to pull you back on track."

"I trust you... Don't let me down..." Tony whispered eventually, now convinced this wasn't a fake persona with the intention to hurt him. He was thankful for the motivational speech, but couldn't find the words – or had too much attitude to express them. That's all for now. He'd get Steve a fruit basket later – self-made of course.

"I never will." The super soldier said with a half-smile. "Thank you for being honest with me. You should do that more often."

Tony nodded, hiding a small smile. "I should... Yeah." His voice cracked. He only noticed now how tired he had become. His limbs felt numb, his mind felt blank. Everything about him felt heavy. He let his head loll from one side to the other, eyes closing and fluttering open again.

"You need a shower. Let's get you to the bathroom." Steve said, standing up and pulling Tony up with him. He wrapped one arm around his waist, and lied Tony's other arm around his neck for support. Like that, they slumped towards the elevator, that brought them three floors up, and opened its doors later. Steve and Tony stumbled out, and made their way over to the bathroom on that floor. It was close to Steve's bedroom, so the journey back wouldn't be as much of a hell as going there.

Steve opened the bathroom door and dragged the genius in with him. Luckily, there was a small stool standing in the corner. He grabbed it with his free hand and brought it closer. Then, he gestured Tony to sit down on the stool, which he surprisingly did. Then, Tony looked up at him. "I don't want to shower _with_ you..."

"That's okay. I'll turn around, like before." he said, receiving a dubious glare from his friend.

"I promise I won't look."

Tony sighed. "Okay." He was too tired to even come up with a witty response at this moment. The Advil he'd taken earlier was definitely working out. He had lived through his little boost of energy and stubbornness, but he just felt his body temperature rising and his brain becoming drowsier with every second. Maybe, a shower would do him good.

* * *

 _The shower didn't do him good._

First of all, when he was washing his hair, he accidentally got shampoo in his eye, which made him groan, and that made Steve almost turn around – almost. The guy was only one second away from looking at his dick; something he really wanted to avoid. He had asked the soldier to just wait outside the bathroom, but he wouldn't fall for that. What a bummer. Second, he almost slipped and fell because his brain wouldn't cooperate, but he got a hold of himself just in time. This stupid flu was giving him a bad time. Last, Steve actually turned around, had a staring contest with the not so orange carrot, and immediately received a towel on his pretty face.

"Ar' you happy now? You've seen Stark naked." Tony said as he pulled a baggy AC/DC shirt over his head and finished dressing up. He then took the towel in his hands and rubbed it over his head to dry his hair.

"I've seen worse." Steve answered. "I'll get you some medication while we're here. Wait a minute." He said, crouching and opening one of the cabinets that was underneath the sink. Advil, Paracetamol, sleeping pills, toothpaste, plasters… He grabbed some of the Advil and was ready to close the cabinet again, until he caught a glimpse of something shiny in the back. As he reached for it, he gently moved the bottles and pills out of the way. When he had retrieved his hand, he saw it was a small, plastic handheld mirror, one that hadn't been broken yet.

Not yet. If he'd show the mirror to Tony, would he punch it again? The man would probably suffer from another panic attack if he'd do such a thing, but it was the only way to find out if Tony was afraid of his own reflection, or even mad at his looks. He knew Tony felt detached from reality already, but there still wasn't an explanation for his fear of mirrors – if there was one. So, after a quick span of thinking whether he should risk it or not, he stood up properly and smiled at his friend.

"Your hair is all messed up now." Steve began. Tony only nodded, looking at the door's way as a sign to finally go to bed again.

"Here, take a look for yourself. You might want to use some gel for this jungle of hair on your head." Steve brought the mirror up in front of the shaky, feverish man's face. His sickness surely wasn't going to help him not get a panic attack, but Steve had to be sure if Tony really hated his own reflection and had punched it in the other bathroom. He just had to know if the mirror - his reflection - had been the trigger for nearly mutilating himself.

Tony's normally big, brown pupils that were already shrunk to an immense small size, slowly started to fade to a darker shade. It was almost as if they became plain black, surrounded by a web of minuscule dark pink veins swimming in salty liquid.

Despite of the increasing amount of sweat forming on his face, and his trembling fingers simultaneously even clasping the towel more, Tony's eyes were the only two things that currently caught Steve's attention. The two orbs of knowledge and traumatic experiences were a window to the engineer's closed off mind. Tony was mostly readable through his eyes, and if you were able to catch the emotion his eyes would give away, then you'd really know how to catch Tony Stark in a lie. Unless Tony tried to control his eye movements, which could be quite unfortunate to those with bad observance powers.

So right there, Tony's glassy, widened eyes seemed to transform into their peaceful, weary position again. He seemed to let out a small sigh too, in hope Steve wouldn't notice it. But he did. The genius's beautifully long lashes were hanging over his chocolate coloured pupils. His eyes were partly closed from the exhaustion the flu had gifted him.

"I don't see it."

"See what?"

"The thing on..." he paused. "The face - _my_ face."

"You can't see it? Look closer."

"Meh. Gives me the brainkiller. 'm tired Steve."

Tony's voice sounded rougher and more painful than before. It was as if he had shoved down a cactus in his own throat; something that would probably hurt like crazy. Do people actually eat cacti? He sure had to google that sometime after he was sure Tony wouldn't do anything to harm himself ever again. Surely, that was going to take an eternity. Even before the Avengers, Tony had been a broken man, and people had presumably tried to fix him in that time, but he - Tony being Tony - had probably denied their help. Pepper and Rhodey had always had a shoulder free for him to lean on, except he never took the opportunity to actually do such a thing. It probably seemed helpless, weak. Steve kind of understood why he didn't accept help from anyone at the time. It was because he didn't need it so desperately. Now, on the contrary, he needed more than just a shoulder. Steve was trying to offer some well-deserved help, it was difficult for Tony's ego to accept it, but he would – eventually…

"Tony, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah you may. Depends on th' ser'ousness actually."

"Do you think everyone hates you?"

"Some peeps hate me. Some 're obsessed with me... That's creepy. Like, Freddy Kruger creepy. Or Scream creepy. Scream's stalk'rish creepy..."

Steve sighed, interrupting the genius's irrational rambling. "Do you think the team hates you?" he asked.

"Meh…" he shrugged, not feeling like answering such sentimental questions. Different thoughts and images of the nightmares he'd been having for the past few months carelessly ran through his mind, almost lifting him out of reality.

"Do you think I hate you?"

"Why would you be here otherwise? I expected hard'r questions Capsicle."

"Do you hate yourself?"

Tony looked down at the ground for a second, anxiously wiggled somewhat with his toes and then looked up again, eyes locking with the soldier's. "... Do you?"

"Stop avoiding the question, answer it."

"I love me." he smiled. " _Don't you?"_

"Err..." Steve went silent for a couple of seconds. Then, he leaned forward and randomly placed his hand on Tony's with sweat covered forehead. He could feel the heat waving through his own skin; his fever had gone out of control. "Let's get you to bed, you look tired." he then said.

"Thanks fo' the heads up... No shit Sherl-"

"Yeah right." Steve interrupted. "I'm sorry for bothering you for too long. Now go to sleep."

"Is it becaus' I'm hot?" The brunette snickered wearily. Instinctively, he softly bit on his bottom lip as he looked at the other man.

Steve smiled. He took the towel from Tony's hands, opened the cane laundry basket, and tossed the dirty piece of cloth in there. "Too hot." he chuckled.

"Thought so... You shou' go to sleep as well then, princess."

Steve grinned at the feminine nickname. "Ever seen a muscular princess with a star spangled spandex suit who's nearly ten decades old?"

"Yes, Natasha."

"She'd kill you off if she would have heard that."

"I know."

The blonde wanted to let the engineer lean on him as they returned to Steve's bedroom, but he wouldn't accept the help; he probably considered as an embarrassment and a fail of being strong. Steve's heart sunk to his feet. He had only accepted his help for a few minutes, but he was now full on pretending to be okay again. Right after they've had that conversation. When was he going to give up on this ridiculous act?

Tony abruptly stopped, and Steve almost bumped into his back.

"Listen." he sighed.

Ignoring the fact that Tony just said listen, Steve began rambling out of concern. "What is it? You really should rest you know? Your fever's probably rising and I suppose you don't want me to bring you to the hospital. Sleep will - "

"I _will_ succeed in killing myself one day." Tony interrupted, looking over his shoulder, eyes drilling into Steve's. For a moment, they seemed soulless; a mix of pain, sorrow and over all a bottomless pool of darkness. It was scary, because it was shocking to say that his eyes had suddenly changed from overemotionally in pain, to absolute nothingness.

Steve swallowed, pupils dilated and felt his heart erratically thumping inside of his chest all of a sudden. "You won't." he gaped.

"Yes, yes I will." Tony whispered vigilantly. He drew a long breath and exhaled. _"And you won't be there to stop me."_

* * *

 **A/N - Thank you so much for reading! I hope the format is okay now.** **The doc had gone totally crazy last time!**

 **By the way, if you guys - my fantastic readers - notice any grammatical or spelling errors, feel free to PM me. Now, I'm just a Dutch person trying to improve her English vocabulary by writing and reading literature. So if you see a mistake, please tell me! I'm eager to learn new stuff, that's why I always end up reading through all kinds of philosophical sites and that's also why I sometimes open up a dictionary for new words.**

 **So what do you think; how will Steve be able to stop Tony from hurting himself again?**

 **Also, what was your favorite part of this chapter?**

 **Don't forget to leave a review : ) I always love reading these and they literally make my day. It's almost as good as chocolate - and chocolate is basically heaven.**

 **Toodles!**

 **-Skye.**


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